


don't let me go

by post_tenebras_lux



Category: One Tree Hill
Genre: Brooke & Haley friendship, Brooke & Rachel friendship, Brooke and Lucas Needed To Use Words With Actual Feelings, F/M, Season 4 AU, honestly idk how to tag this, just know season 4 forever made me bitter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-22 19:34:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 35,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13771056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/post_tenebras_lux/pseuds/post_tenebras_lux
Summary: Lucas Scott was the guy for Brooke Davis. He even said it. So what if the guy who made that proclamation refused to just let things fall apart after the girl for him lost faith in him being the guy for her? Well, let's find out. Season 4 AU.





	1. i had no idea of the state we were in

“It’s okay,” Lucas had said. “I’m gonna get her back.”

And yet, here the fuck he was - Brooke-less, kinda (read: definitely) drunk, and a very disappointed (read, again: annoyed) Peyton Sawyer glaring at him from her seat on her bed while he sat on the floor. His back against the blonde’s bookshelf and his brain a jumble of thoughts that both began and ended with the enigma that was Brooke Penelope Davis.

Honestly, it was Skillz’s fault. No - not the Brooke situation. The Brooke situation was a whole other headache that had very little to do with the bitch of a hangover he was going to have come morning. Okay...maybe the Brooke situation added to the whole drinking thing, but somebody had to answer for his misgivings and it was definitely going to be Skillz when Lucas managed to remember where his phone was. After Haley left for her and Nathan’s apartment with the intent to not at all tell her husband just yet of her pregnancy, Skillz and the boys decided that Lucas wasn’t allowed to spend the rest of the night pouting like he had been at the bar about what he should and should not have said to Brooke earlier. Just thinking about him - _once again_ , because for him to be so skilled at words, his vocabulary was somehow limited to _consistently_ bringing up the one person he almost couldn’t stand more than Dan at the worst times when it came to his (former) girlfriend - bringing up Chris Keller made Lucas groan and hang his head back...er, try to, anyway. The second his head tipped backwards, it connected with the bookshelf and that was not a fun experience.

“Luke,” Peyton drawled after a sigh, tone both pitying and annoyingly annoyed for someone who hadn’t been the one to stupidly drink their feelings away because their friends goaded them on. It took a moment because his head felt heavy and Luke was busy rubbing at the pained spot at the back of his head, but Lucas raised it to meet the skinny blonde’s gaze. “You’ve gotta stop doing this. I thought you learned your lesson from the first time.”

Yes, there had been a first time. Needless to say, despite walking away from the situation as if he was resigned to be over and done with Brooke back when Rachel threw her house party, Lucas had - in fact - not been over and done with Brooke. In fact, he had been downright disheartened. And had been convinced to drink with the guys at the River Court. Maybe he needed to question his group of friends and their willingness to throw copious amounts of beer at him? Or was it his own unwillingness to not live up to the very responsible persona he typically had? He didn’t know. These were thoughts he should have when sober.

“Mmmmm...Brooke.”

Because that made sense and couldn’t nothing change Lucas’ mind about it.

What didn’t make sense was the cloud that descended upon Peyton’s visage the second her former best friend’s name slipped past his lips, and Lucas wasn’t sober enough to think it was anything more than the loss of Brooke Davis. Since that’s what seemed to be a reoccurring theme for everyone present. They both lost Brooke Davis. And it was a shame, really, because Lucas’ world seemed bleak without her in it.

A lot of people (and Luke was genuinely surprised to find this out via the cheerleading rumor mill that happened to be Rachel Gatina when she didn’t happen to be anti-Lucas Scott) assumed that it would just be Brooke who would have lost out when they broke up. Of course, she could still be queen of Tree Hill High because who else was going to take over that mantle? Rachel tried, but they all knew who ran those halls when she wanted to. But people genuinely felt like Brooke was the one missing out. She was supposedly grounded by Lucas and made likable, which was ridiculous because yes, Brooke was the head cheerleader, but for Lucas (and everyone else who tried to see past her shields) Brooke was so much more than that and was naturally likable. Not liking Brooke Davis was a choice and the wrong one, clearly. And it was him who was surely missing out.

Brooke was bright and bubbly, her vivacity infectious and energy magnetic, even when she wasn’t trying. She made people smile, even when they swore they would not. Hell, it was because they said that they would not that she wound up making them; she was just that kind of person. And she was kind and loving and good - so much good. And Lucas missed that, longed for it. And with the way grief still seemed to cling to his very pores on the worst days, he truly missed the warmth his pretty girl managed to give off so easily.

And yet, it felt like he was alone most days in this perpetual state of longing. Lucas could give off a smile or two when with friends, but in reality, he was still confused and slightly (read, again: definitely) angry, and definitely hurt. Meanwhile, Brooke was going about her life as if he wasn’t even a factor in it while she was still the biggest part for him. It was a befuddling mix of bitterness, contempt, heartache, and anger that influenced him to blurt out:

“How can she just do that?”

“Do what?”

“Forget me like that,” the words came out with more force than Luke realized he was capable of, practically spat from his tongue with the venom he had been paralyzed with when Brooke was honestly capable of brushing past him like he was absolutely nothing to her the day after they broke up.

He could feel Peyton’s eyes on him, the sadness emanating from her in waves, but Luke’s gaze remained unfocused. He could have been staring at her window, really, but all Lucas could see was Brooke’s profile as she brushed him off on campus, refusing to meet his gaze, silently dismissing him as if there weren’t still so many unspoken words in the distance between them.

“I-I mean, really though. _How?_ We were fine.” He paused then before retracting. “Okay, maybe we weren’t perfect, who really is? I was dealing with Keith, you guys were apparently falling out, the wedding was coming up, and Mom - we were _fine_ . Absolutely _nothing_ we couldn’t fix and I had _every_ intention, when things calmed down and Nathan was out of the hospital, to talk to her and get some things out.”

Lucas ran a frustrated hand through his hair and then plopped his head back. Only for it not to stay there, ignoring the bite of pain again at the force of the impact, because he sat up again, animated by the anger.

“And then she can just...it’s like I don’t even exist to her. The last few months, the letters - we argued in the fucking rain, Peyton, did I ever tell you? - none of it matters anymore. I-I just...I don’t get it.”

Peyton didn’t speak for awhile, but Lucas heard her shift on her bed. He slumped then, unsure of what else to say. Peyton shifted again, the weight of her gaze on him again, and only then did she speak.

“Okay, ummm, Luke, I’m going to say this and I really don’t want you to take this the wrong way because I meant it when I said I would help you get Brooke back,” she began and though she spoke with the same tender sympathy she’s been granting since his and Brooke’s separation, there was a sinking feeling in Lucas’ gut that told him that he was not about to like what came out of Peyton Sawyer’s mouth. “What if Brooke meant it when she said that she stopped missing you?”

Yep, he definitely did not like what came out of Peyton Sawyer’s mouth.

And his face must have showed his disdain because Peyton was quick to throw her hands up and the apology was in her eyes long before the words were stuttered out.

“W-w-wait...don’t hate me, I didn’t mean - _no_.” She frantically cried.

Lucas shifted on the floor, one knee raised off of the floor if he needed the boost to get off of it and out of his friend’s room because right about now, the alcohol was making him ten times more sensitive and the idea of Brooke not missing him anymore - it was hard to breathe.

“I’m just saying...Brooke loves you, Luke. Everyone knows that.” Lucas was glad about that because at the moment, it was hard to believe that. “And she’s probably right that she always will, but what if - ?” Peyton obviously had to steady herself to say the rest because she paused, squared her shoulders, and gentled her face even more than it already was to stab Lucas in the heart with: “But what if Brooke doesn’t want you to get her back?”

Lucas stared at her, expressionless.

At least, he thought it had been but Lucas could also be wrong because Peyton looked miserable a second later, even though she pressed on. “She’s pushing you away, Luke. And it sucks, yeah, but what if...what if she is the one standing next to you when all of your dreams come true...just not in the way that _you_ want her to?”

The truth was that Lucas had thought about that - honestly had - and then proceeded to throw that thought out of his head almost immediately because no. Just...no. If Brooke didn’t really want to be withhim anymore, then maybe one day he could learn to be okay with that and move on. It was going to hurt, but he could do it. Especially if it meant that he could have her in some kind of way after all they had been through. He had truly meant it when he said that he wanted her to be a part of his world, especially the biggest but maybe that would be too much. But that was an if and it was an if that he didn’t want to consider a possibility just yet.

Because then his mind was flooded with memories of her cuddled up against him at night, the soft press of her lips against his forehead just before she’d flit off to attempt to cook breakfast and fail horribly. The scent of her in his sheets, her lingering warmth on his pillow. The sight of her frolicking around in his sweatshirts, all dimples and messy hair from the night before. And while the mature part of Lucas could one day cast that aside - if needed - in an effort to one day hold and cherish a friendship with Brooke Davis, that part of him was overshadowed by a deep set hurt at the idea that getting to that point would mean accepting that Brooke didn’t _want_ him anymore.

And things having been so bad that Brooke didn’t want him anymore was a painful revelation Lucas didn’t want to come to terms with.

“So, what?” He asked, voice hard. “I should just...give up?”

“That is not what I’m saying.” It was exactly what it sounded like to Lucas and he was just about to tell her that, but she soldiered on, ignoring him. “I’m not. But you know how Brooke can be, Luke. I just don’t want you to be disappointed if things don’t work out the way that you want and you even said that night at Rachel’s that you weren’t the guy for her. So, maybe - ”

“Do. Not.” _Remind me_ , he begged in his head. “Just don’t, Peyton, because you and I both know that I said maybe.” Because, oh yeah, that extra word meant something, especially when he had seen the flash of hurt in bright hazel eyes before her face turned into a blank sheet of nonchalance. “Maybe I wasn’t the guy for her.”

“But that’s the point, Lucas,” Peyton said. “There might be a chance that you’re not and maybe you should - d”

“I didn’t mean it, okay? I didn’t mean it when I said that I wasn’t the guy for her, I didn’t mean it when I even considered Chris Keller would be the father of her child if she happened to be pregnant. I was just - I was mad, okay? Brooke…” By that point, Lucas was standing and he let out a long, frustrated breath at the thought of the cheery brunette. “Brooke is frustrating and drives me up the wall half of the time, but I’m the guy for her, Peyton. I am.”

“But how do you know that?” She pressed.

Lucas clenched his jaw.

“How do any of us know anything that we think we’re sure of now?” Lucas didn’t answer immediately and he stared at Peyton through slitted eyes, which prompted her to continue. “How do we know that the careers we think we’re going to want for ourselves will be the ones we have years from now? How do we know that Haley and Nathan are going to be together forever? How do we know if the things that are important to us now aren’t going to seem trivial and stupid later?”

So, Lucas wanted to say, Haley and Nathan were going to be together forever and he couldn’t believe for a second that Peyton would doubt that, but Lucas was too busy glaring to want to interject on that front.

“The point is that we don’t know. We don’t know any of those things, and that’s okay. But we should definitely just acknowledge that there’s a - ”

“Whose side are you on right now?” Lucas demanded, incredulous.

To some extent, Lucas knew that he shouldn’t be as upset with Peyton as he was. She was asking all of the questions each person in Tree Hill asked. If they leave Tree Hill, will they come back? Will their current relationship be the same one they’re in five years from now? Ten? Will they even want it to be? But Lucas was certain about his feelings, contrary to what anyone else might have to say about the matter. Brooke was the one for him, he was the one for her, and he knew they were meant to be together. He just did. And, okay, yes he had begun to push her away after Keith died, which wasn’t fair. Not at all. But Luke had known that he would have the chance to make things right because Brooke was it for him. He was uncertain if the book he was working on would become much of anything later and what would happen once they graduated, especially now with the Haley being pregnant revelation because he would love to help in any way that he could, but of this one thing he was certain:

Brooke Davis would one day become Brooke Davis-Scott. It was destiny and every other cheesy thing he’d get ribbed for by the guys.

Obviously, though, Peyton had reached her handling-a-heartbroken-Lucas-Scott threshold because the miserable expression on her face morphed into a frustrated one as she (for some reason) bitterly replied, “The one where you’re not smelling like a beer keg on my bedroom floor crying over someone who’s making it pretty clear that she wants nothing to do with either of us.”

Lucas stared at her for a stretch of time before nodding, jaw still clenched.

“You’re right,” he said, not exactly steady on his feet when he took a step back, but willing himself to have some kind of control over his limbs. “I should go.” Peyton sighed, but Lucas turned away from her guilt-ridden face.

“Luke, no, wait,” she called as he headed towards and through her bedroom doorway. “You can’t drive like this.”

“I didn’t.”

That was the truth. After a few drinks, while Skillz and Mouth had been distracted, Lucas had stepped out into the cool crisp North Carolina air and took a walk that happened to bring him to Peyton’s. He had instinctively known that he wouldn’t have gotten away with coming in late on a school night, drunk, in Karen’s house. Not when she no longer had her number one distraction. And damn that thought for reminding him of the loss that predated the Brooke loss. It seemed like this year was being plagued by a seemingly endless wave of hurt and loss, and Lucas was tired of it.

Peyton called after him, something about just crashing on the couch or something - anything, really, other than going out into the late night with alcohol fuzzing his brain - but Lucas was jogging down the stairs and out the front door without so much as a backward glance. Once outside, Lucas genuinely did consider heading back home. He still jogged, yes, but he knew that he was in no right mind to be going all of the way over to Nathan and Haley’s on foot. His house was closer, even with the impending Karen Roe rant (and grounding) that was coming his way.

However, before Lucas knew it, his feet were leading him on a different path, one that he hadn’t realized he wanted to be on until he was and there was no turning around at that point. Because his mind was back to when he had seen one of the scripts for the play Brooke had put on just before Nathan and Haley’s wedding only to realize that it had been one of Brooke’s before she had grabbed another, the haphazard scrawl of Brooke Davis with the Scott suspiciously scratched out as if she had considered the implications of it (and anyone finding out) and tried to mask it permanently imprinted in his retinas.

And because Lucas refused to believe it was over when Brooke had been that girl not so long ago.

 

* * *

 

 

Brooke was asleep.

Or at least, she had been when she had rudely been snatched from her dreamless slumber by the feeling of a succession of hits. They weren’t hard enough to hurt, but Brooke definitely felt them and blearily saw Rachel standing on the bed, another pillow raised in her hand.

“What the hell is your problem?” She inquired incredulously, her naturally raspy voice made rougher with sleep she had gained only from crying herself into exhaustion. Rachel narrowed her eyes at her.

“I’ll give you a hint,” she hissed.

A second later and Brooke heard a very familiar, very (read: still) heart-wrenching voice yell out “Brooke!” followed by what sounded like something small hitting a window. Brooke sat up then, almost afraid to peer out the bedroom window. The redhead had no such qualms about doing so, peeking through the blinds to see Lucas Scott finding another pebble.

“How - ?”

“Ten minutes,” Rachel answered without Brooke even having to clarify. It did not take a genius to realize that Rachel was both at her wit’s end and slightly amused, but definitely sleepy. “He’s been at this for ten minutes and you sleep like the dead.” Brooke rolled her eyes at the dramatics, but slid out from under the covers anyway. “You’re lucky my parents aren’t here to press charges.”

In all honesty, Brooke thought Lucas would be done with her after tonight. The pregnancy situation had literally been blown out of proportions and she thought he’d be relieved to know that she wasn’t. Haley had text her that she told Lucas the truth, even though Brooke was pretty sure the three drinks she had slurped down should have been indicative of her lack of a bun in the oven. Nevertheless, after countless moments of dismissal and ignoring of Lucas’ presence, after this, she thought it was over. Needed it to be over. It had to be because Brooke was going to cave if it was not.

How many more times could she honestly convince herself that she was doing the right thing when Lucas stared at her with those fathomless bluer-than-blue eyes filled with more longing than he had the right to? How many more times was she going to be able to convince herself to walk away? How many more times could she feign sleep so that Rachel wouldn’t judge her, seduced into the dream world by the ghost of strong arms holding her against a warm chest and lips pressed to the top of her head? How many more times could she awaken with his name on her lips first thing in the morning only for her to be confronted with the ever-growing distance between them?

Brooke was strong, as strong as everyone else believed her to be. But she wasn’t Superwoman and Lucas Scott had been an addiction she was still finding difficult to fully kick. Even if her behavior suggested otherwise.

“Maybe if we go back to sleep, he’ll...I don’t know, get the picture or something,” Brooke suggested. As if mocking her, Lucas yelled out:

“You can’t ignore me forever, Brooke.”

Brooke proceeded to ignore the very pointed look her friend gave her. A beat later and another pebble hit another window.

“Okay, I’m opening the door,” Rachel stated and Brooke’s eyes widened in horror.

“What? Rachel, no.” The redhead was already out the door and Brooke scrambled to follow her, but Rachel was on a mission as she stormed down the hallway. “You can’t.”

“Ummm, considering this is _my_ house, Davis, I’m pretty sure that I can and I’m going to,” Rachel told her and Brooke tried glaring at the girl fully, but it was hard when you were jogging down a hardwood staircase and trying not to trip. “Look, it is two in the morning and I am not dealing with the cops at my house because your ex-boyfriend, who honestly shouldn’t be your ex-boyfriend when you’re still crying about him in your sleep - and yes, I know all about you crying because you’re not as quiet as you think you are, Brooke -  is outside my house yelling like a maniac for you.”

Brooke didn’t know what to say to that.

Rachel didn’t wait for her to figure it out, either. She marched through the foyer to the front doors and swung one open, Brooke grudgingly behind her. Lucas’ hand was poised in front of him, as if raised to strike. Rachel only smiled frostily at the surprised expression. “Lucas, what a pleasant surprise - oh, wait. It isn’t a pleasant surprise because it’s two in the morning and I am trying to sleep, not that you care. Clearly.”

Lucas opened and closed his mouth several times, but words seemed to fail him.

“What do you want, Scott?” A beat later and Rachel recoiled, making Brooke blink in surprise. Not for long, though, as the redhead followed up with: “And why do you smell like you’ve been dipped into a keg of beer? Have you been drinking?”

“I, uh, yeah,” Lucas answered rather awkwardly, rubbing at the back of his head and Brooke cursed him for looking so guilty and proud at the same time. Rachel glanced back at her, noted her expression, and rolled her eyes again before facing the blonde male.

“What. Do. You. Want?”

“Brooke.”

His answer was so simple and honest, and the little smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth tugged at Brooke’s heartstrings, and Brooke folded her arms over her chest as if to shield herself from the magnitude of him just saying her name. He said her name like a prayer, reverent and so matter of fact about it, and Brooke felt the tears gather at the back of her eyes before she could stop them. Rachel shifted on her feet, a hand on the open door, as she turned to stare Brooke dead in the face. A raised eyebrow from the redhead and Brooke took in a deep breath before taking the strides to be the one in front of Lucas.

The one thing Brooke had made sure to do since breaking up with Lucas was keep her defenses up. She had faltered, she knew, at Tric when he asked about her possibly being pregnant. It was why she had wound up getting a drink as quickly as she could. She had to force herself to do it too. Set her jaw the right way, square her shoulders, keep her face as blank as possible, her very aura unwelcoming. And it worked, to some degree, even if it tore her up on the inside. But at the moment, Brooke felt vulnerable to both the chill of the night and the look in Lucas’ eyes. Especially his eyes.

Those were his determined eyes. Those were the eyes that stared back at her when he told her that he was the guy for her and that she’d see it. Those were the eyes that gazed at her with so much love, even if tinged by frustration, with the pouring rain all around them as he gave her all of the reasons why he loved her and chose her. Those were the eyes she had stared into during their stay at the cabin, back when the depressive cloud of grief had descended on her Lucas and pulled him away from her, and he happened to have been able to peek through and give her hope that he was still in there.

And Brooke was hopeless against those eyes.

“Go home, Luke,” she said softly.

“I can’t.”

“Well, then you need to do something because you can’t do this.” Brooke swore Lucas pouted at that, but she didn’t want to give it too much thought. She might do something stupid like kiss the put out look away or something. “Where’s your - ?” Brooke glanced behind him and noted that she didn’t see his truck anywhere.She sighed. “Did you seriously walk here? Luke, really? Maybe I should call Peyton or somebody - ”

“I don’t want Peyton,” Lucas stated. Brooke begged the traitorous little part of her that got thrilled at those words to pipe the hell down. He didn’t know what he was talking about.

“Okay, fine, then I’ll call Nathan or Mouth or somebody but you can’t just - ”

“You’re not listening to me.”

“You’re drunk, Luke.”

“Yeah, I guess I am,” he said as if he was just realizing it and Brooke stared at him, exasperated. She heard Rachel let out a breath, almost forgetting the redhead was there. “But that doesn’t mean that I don’t feel what I feel, and the truth is, Brooke, I’m sorry.” The apology came out like an exhalation of pure exhaustion. It seemed like it took a lot out of Lucas because his shoulders slumped and he looked so miserable that Brooke ached to soothe him somehow, smooth away the light furrow that had formed between his eyebrows. “I’m sorry about the kiss and I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you about it and I’m sorry if I ever made you think that I never missed you. Because I did. Every single day.”

Again, how many more times could Brooke deal before she broke? Because clearly God or the universe - or whomever - was clearly not done with testing her restraint.

“Lucas, it’s not about - it’s fine. Okay, know what? I’ll grab a coat and get you home, just - ”

“Did you really stop missing me?”

Brooke froze at that question, having just taken a step back to go find a coat despite only being in a tank top and shorts. She didn’t even bother catching the very interested expression on Rachel’s face as the redhead watched from the space Brooke had once occupied near the steps when it was Rachel who had been at the door. Lucas stared at her, a fire in her gaze that bespoke a reluctance to just back down like she had been hoping he would. Or at least, acting like she was hoping that he would. Truth was, Brooke wanted the complete opposite, but refused to say it. She was going to stand by her decision to end things. She had to. It would only end badly (read: worse) for her if she stayed and Lucas realized the truth depth of his feelings for the blonde artist. Even if her heart was currently racing.

“Lucas, please.” _Please stop_ or _please prove me wrong_ remained to be the two thoughts her brain went back and forth with, and Brooke just wanted to go back to silent, dreamless sleep where she could forget everything.

“Because I don’t think that you did,” he continued as if he did not hear her. “I can’t let myself believe that you stopped missing me like I missed you because I miss you every single day and it hurts, Brooke. It hurts. And the only way I can think of getting it to stop hurting is by getting you back.”

Brooke could only stare, unable to speak.

Lucas spread his arms wide, much like he had when he had shrugged that night in the driveway. “I’m the guy for you, Brooke Davis. You know it - I know you do. And I know it. And I’ll remind you that as many times as you need me to, but I can’t do _this._ ” He gestured to the space between the two of them. Brooke’s eyes, however, never left his. “This thing where you pretend to hate me when all I wanna do is be with you.”

Brooke was pretty sure she heard Rachel say that she didn’t know whether she should get some popcorn or gag, but it was hard to remember that the redhead was there when Lucas Scott was professing his love at two in the morning.

“I love you, Brooke. And yeah, I might not know what’s going to happen tomorrow, but I do know that. And you might be able to tell yourself that you can’t do us anymore and that we’re over, but I refuse to believe that. And deep down, no matter what you say, you don’t believe it either. And I’m sorry I didn’t say anything that night when you broke up with me, but I’ll say it now. I’m not letting you go, not without a fight. Even if I have to stand here all night.”

Much like Lucas had minutes ago, Brooke’s mouth opened and close, the brunette at a loss for words. She couldn’t even conjure up a snippy response when Rachel, impressed, remarked, “Well, this just got interesting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song my emo ass was inspired by or just tacking on to this chapter was Don't You Remember by Adele. It's what I do when I write: mostly every piece of writing is attached to a song.


	2. why did you leave me here to burn?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rachel steals Brooke's car because she's honestly a genius, Lucas' head hurts like fuck but he remembers certain details from the night before, but at least there's pancakes, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is I Have Questions by Camila Cabello. I've been listening to this song back to back for weeks and Brucas was the second couple I thought of this song being for, especially verse two. Cabello sings about her name being safest in whomever she is singing to's mouth, and I can see that for Brooke. Lucas had once told her he was the guy for her only for him to tell her that she wasn't; he practically spat it out as Cabello croons. And granted, she was definitely pushing him, but fuck. That hurt me for her. I wouldn't have been able to withstand that and keep a straight face like she had.
> 
> But that might also be my emo ass projecting lol.
> 
> Please leave kudos and comments!

“Honestly, I’m doing you a favor right now,” Rachel declared and if the girl were here, Brooke would probably try to wring her neck. “I don’t see why you’re so mad.” Brooke’s hazel eyes - a fierce green shade in her anger - narrowed at her so-called friend’s audacity. 

 

“Right...so, you obviously also don’t see the issue with taking  _ someone else’s _ car to get to school because your car is in the shop even though you left the person who the car you’re in  _ actually _ belongs to as if they don’t want to go to school too.” 

 

That had been a rather jarring discovery for Brooke. Brooke was always up before Rachel in the mornings; she never wanted the redhead to see her with eyes that were too red to just have come from sleep alone, so she’d wash her face, get a cup of coffee, and at least be decent enough so that she didn’t look like she had been crying through the night. It probably didn’t work, not all the time, if the revelation that Rachel had known all this time that that had been what she was doing meant anything. 

 

But when Brooke returned to the room after her shower, she smelled breakfast being cooked downstairs, but no Rachel in sight in the bedroom. She had immediately assumed that the girl was downstairs. Neither girls cooked - Brooke’s cooking was getting better, but Rachel wasn’t even trusted with a toaster on a good day - so occasionally, if they didn’t pick something up or just not eat that morning, Rachel had a chef come over in the morning. Or at least make ready-made meals the night before. This morning smelled like a freshly prepared breakfast and Brooke’s stomach rumbled, so she had thrown a robe over her semi-finished outfit and jogged downstairs to see that Rachel wasn’t there either. That alone resulted in a sinking feeling in her stomach. One look out into the driveway later and she was incensed. 

 

Brooke knew she should have never have trusted that bitch. 

 

“But you don’t want to go to school,” Rachel clarified far too calmly. “You want to avoid our little _guest_ in the bedroom next to ours and considering the fact that he’s more _your_ guest than mine, I figured it’d be a lot more mature of you to play hostess than to run away.”

 

“Okay, first of all, I’m not running away. I just don’t wanna deal with a hungover Lucas.” That sounded a lot more convincing in her head. 

 

“And second?”

 

“Ummmm…I’m still figuring that part out - but that’s not the point, Rachel!” Brooke yelled, but then winced and mentally told herself to shut the hell up. What she didn’t need to do was wake Lucas, even though he was upstairs. She so did not that conversation any time soon. “Bring me my car back here right now!” 

 

“No can do, Brookie,” Rachel exclaimed and Brooke wanted to punch her in her throat for the cheeriness she could hear in the girl’s voice. “I already just pulled up at Mouth’s and coming all the way back over to that side of town will mean we’re all late and some of us don’t exactly have perfect attendance rates right about now.” Brooke growled.

 

“Well, maybe if you didn’t decide to slut it up in the janitor’s closet every Thursday, you wouldn’t have this problem!”

 

“Cute,” Rachel replied shortly. 

 

Brooke heard the car door open through the phone and Rachel address Mouth, not bothering to say a word - even though she softened, briefly - when Mouth offered a loud greeting since Rachel more than likely wasn’t going to give him the device. She probably knew that Brooke would be able to convince Mouth to make her come get Brooke.  _ Smart bitch _ , she thought bitterly, wondering when her taste in friends had gotten so bad. Well, maybe it had never been good in the first place, considering she started with Peyton. 

 

“Look, I even did you a favor. Rosa made a really good breakfast for you guys to talk over. It’ll help him with his hangover and your fat ass can eat something more than the self-pity flavored ice cream you’ve been scarfing down as meal replacements,” Rachel said sweetly. 

 

Seriously - strangling needed to happen and like, yesterday, because at this point, Brooke could kill her. She could honestly just wring Rachel’s bony ass neck because she has had it up to  _ here _ with her bullshit. 

 

“Rachel, I am  _ not _ pl - ”

 

“Love you, bitch!” 

 

“Sl - ”

 

But Brooke heard the click of the phone - signalling Rachel had hung up - before the insult could get off of her tongue and, frustrated, she slammed her phone down on the kitchen countertop, hissing out, “Dammit!” She huffed angrily and fought the urge to stomp her feet, shutting her eyes at the angry tears that had welled up in them. Which -  _ God _ \- she really didn’t need right now. To some extent, Brooke was aware that Rachel, in her own twisted and rather bitchy kind of way, was just trying to help. She didn’t know when exactly Rachel had turned all pro-Brucas and whatnot, but she kinda wanted to see Brooke happy. It obviously didn’t matter what Brooke thought constituted as things that made her happy since Rachel apparently knew all, but the intent was there. It didn’t make Brooke want to choke the bitch out any less. 

 

“That...sounded fun,” Brooke heard over her shoulder and she swore under her breath as she whirled around; she hadn’t heard Lucas even come down the steps. 

 

“Lucas…”

 

“I’m guessing Rachel’s not coming back, huh?” It wasn’t a question, not really. The reminder of what Brooke was going to call the redhead’s betrayal made her seethe.

 

“But she sends her regards,” she replied, gesturing to the food Rosa had left only a few minutes ago. It was a pretty decent spread. There were fluffy pancakes that she was told were sitting in the on the lowest setting to keep them soft and warm, three omelettes, a small serving dish of fried potatoes with red peppers and large black specks Brooke thought were black pepper, and another side dish with bacon and sausage links. There was already a pitcher of orange juice out along with the coffee pot Brooke had already stolen a mug of, along small fixings for the pancakes like chocolate chips, sliced strawberries and syrup. On any other day, Brooke would have appreciated it. Considering the fact that it had been a trap to lull her into a false sense of security while being forced in the same room as Lucas for more than five minutes, she was feeling less than grateful.

 

And so was her stomach, since it hadn’t gotten an actual meal like this in days. 

 

“How, uh, thoughtful,” Lucas exclaimed, wincing at the fluorescent light fixtures above as he stepped further in the room. His hand rose to massage the bridge of his nose where his headache felt like it centered from. Honestly, the idea of food made his stomach both roil and grumble, which - by the way - was not exactly a pleasant sensation. It was a reminder why he really didn’t like to get drunk. The actual effects of alcohol were fine, sure, and everyone loved that...but then the morning after was a thing and absolutely no one could say they enjoyed the crash. 

 

Brooke hummed in silent discomfort, turning away from him when the somehow still focused gaze honed in on her, moving to retrieve the pancakes from the oven.

 

“Brooke…” 

 

“Lucas, please don’t,” she asked - begged, really, as she set the tray down. “Look, I’ll go upstairs to let you eat and then I’ll call you a cab but - ”

 

“I remember last night.”

 

“Well...that’s great. You remember getting shitfaced drunk and walking all the way over here late at night and us putting you to bed,” Brooke exclaimed, feeling her heart begin to race. Because if he remembered everything from last night, she was well and truly fucked. “You can send a thank you card in the mail.”

 

“Don’t do that.” Lucas’s voice was surprisingly calm for someone who should have a bitch of a hangover. He stared at her rather steadily, shaking off what appeared to be another wave of discomfort. “I remember everything - I remember coming over here, what I said...what you said.” He took a few more steps into the room, walking until he stood directly across from with the kitchen island being the only thing to separate them. Even with that small bit of distance, Brooke felt small. 

 

“Lucas - ”

 

“You said you missed me. You always miss me,” Lucas continued and Brooke shut her eyes as if she could shut him out of sight and mind as well. 

 

_ “Okay, Boozy, let’s get you into bed,” Brooke exclaimed as she let Lucas practically collapse into the mattress face first.  _

 

_ Rachel had helped her get him up the stairs and Brooke honestly had to take a moment to thank God for getting her into cheerleading because her upper body would probably be to shit if she hadn’t ever had to help girls into the air. However, once they had reached the top of the stairs, Rachel had pretty much dropped all of Lucas’ weight on her and kept it moving, telling her which room to leave him in and to have fun. If Brooke hadn’t had an armful of Lucas Scott, she probably would have pushed the girl down the steps or something. Be that as it may, she did have Lucas, who wasn’t unconscious, but definitely suffering from the alcohol catching up to him because he leaned more on her than his own two feet.  _

 

_ “Seriously, Lucas, when did we start having to call you Boozy, anyway?” She asked, not really expecting an answer as she at least decided to be nice and unlace his shoes that way he could kick them off he decided to slide under the comforter. Everything else, she was going to leave up to him because that was dangerous, dangerous territory. _

 

_ Definitely not going there.  _

 

_ “Mmmmmm...since you left mmmeee,” Lucas’ response was muffled into the comforter, but clear enough that Brooke could hear him anyway. Brooke’s eyes fluttered closed and she kept them there as she stood straight, trying to push back against the wave of emotion.  _

 

_ “I didn’t leave you, Lucas.” _

 

_ “You didn’t stay either.” It was ridiculous how he could sound so adorably childish while speaking into a comforter, drunk, but Brooke was too busy gazing at the top of his head, at the hair he was now letting grow out a bit. It was disheveled at the moment, but it was surprisingly a decent look on him and Brooke really wanted to run a hand through it like she used to when he sounded the way that he did. Dangerous, remember, she told herself.  _

 

_ “Well, you didn’t make me stay,” she pointed out. Lucas groaned into the mattress and Brooke really hoped he had reached his i’m-done-with-your-shit-brooke-davis quota like he normally got whenever they wound up having a conversation. Or, well, arguing. That was a more accurate description of what they’d been doing lately. Lucas shifted on the bed and she really didn’t want to start an actual argument at the moment, so Brooke decided to make peace. “Look, I’ll just let you rest. You’re probably gonna regret this whole thing in the morning…” _

 

_ “Or you can stay.” Lucas turned so that he could be on his back, which clearly took a lot out of him. He ignored her concerned “Lucas” in favor of leaning up on his elbows, notably tired gaze on her. It made Brooke shiver. She just tried to shake her head, ignoring the way her body really did want to curl up with him on this bed and forget everything that had happened in the last few weeks.  _

 

_ It would be really easy, too. Despite the fact that he very much did smell like he was dipped in beer and then rolled in vodka as an afterthought, there was still the underlying scent that was just plain Lucas and that was always...that was always home to Brooke, even though she’d deny it if asked. She could just curl into his side, a leg tangled with one of his, her face buried in the crook of his neck. And she could probably have the first genuinely peaceful night of sleep since their breakup. But then she closed her eyes and remembered the low lights all around as Peyton looked at her, tearfully, and admitted that she had feelings for Lucas.  _

 

Pipe dreams, B. Davis _ , she told herself.  _ Just pipe dreams _.  _

 

_ With a deep sigh, Brooke stared into the pitiful gaze of her ex-boyfriend. Without meaning to, her hand rose to cup the left side of his face and Lucas leaned into it, eyes falling closed so effortlessly as if he was just as content with this one piece of content that Brooke’s heard ached. Her thumb traced his cheekbone, gaze following it’s path before she looked back at his eyes just as he opened them again. “I always want to stay, Broody. I thought you knew that,” she said softly, knowing damn well that was the last thing she should have been saying. Knowing that this should be the very last thing she was doing.  _

 

_ What Brooke should do is walk away. She should walk out of this bedroom, shut the damn door behind her, and leave. Go drive over to Haley and Nathan’s for the night. It was late, but they were her best friends; they wouldn't’t turn her away. Hell, she could just stay in her car. She’d already done it once or twice before. But she should leave and not come back until Lucas’ hangover - because there was no doubt in her mind that he was going to have one - wore off and he went home. But her feet wouldn’t let her; they were practically glued to the floor, completely disagreeing with all demands to leave Lucas Scott’s presence just like her heart.  _ Traitors _ , she wanted to shout.  _

 

_ “I just don’t see the point,” she whispered, surprised by the sudden resurgence of tears. She thought she had been done with those for the night, but apparently not, she realized as a few escaped her eyes.  _

 

_ “Why not?” Lucas asked and reached up to wipe them away, but before he could, Brooke’s breath hitched in her throat and she was pulling away. Neither verbalized that the sudden distance made them both feel cold almost immediately.  _

 

_ “Goodnight, Lucas.” It had to be - this  _ had  _ to be end of the conversation because Brooke was two seconds from doing something stupid like curling up in Lucas’ lap and sobbing like a goddamn baby and that just would not do. She dodged the arm that reached for her wrist, heading for the door.  _

 

_ “Did you really stop missing me?” Lucas demanded and Brooke froze, having swung the bedroom door open. It was a dumb question, in his mind, because he already had the answer. Like he’d said at least ten minutes ago, he didn’t logically believe that Brooke stopped missing him. But a very fragile part of his heart was tired of him saying it; he needed the words from her mouth. Otherwise, it was just a dream - a lie he had fed himself to make himself feel better.  _

 

_ Brooke didn’t speak nor move for a long time, but when she did, she turned to face him with tears streaming down her face and a smile so sad that tears of his own sprung to his eyes. “Of course not,” she replied, voice soft and cracking with emotion. He hated that she was so far away, hated that he couldn’t wrap her in his arms - even though he knew he’d probably crumble to the ground if he tried standing at this point - and kiss her until the tears went away. But she wouldn’t let him; he knew she wouldn’t. “I always miss you, Lucas. I just stopped wanting to.” And not even a second later, Brooke was out the door and it was closing, leaving him with nothing but moonlight and darkness.  _

 

“Why can’t you just eat this breakfast and leave it alone?” Brooke demanded pleadingly, hands clutching the edges of the counter so tightly that her knuckles were turning white. Lucas rubbed a frustrated hand through his hair.

 

“Why do you have to be so damn complicated when all I want is for us to have a reasonable conversation about this?” He shot back. Brooke’s mouth dropped open and her eyes narrowed in outrage, clear signs that he had said the wrong thing. 

 

“Oh, great,” she snapped. “Well, if I’m sooooo complicated, then why don’t you just let it go?”

 

“Don’t do that.” Lucas fixed her with a tired but sharp look, a glare that made her hackles rise. “Don’t try to turn my words into something that they’re not. Don’t make it seem like I’m not here trying to fight for us when you’re clearly not.” 

 

“And I’m not going to!” Brooke yelled, reminding him so painfully of the night of Rachel’s party. She had said those very words so quietly then, with such confidence - like they were right. As if her stance and her conviction were right when they made Lucas feel so wrong. They made him want to vomit. Then again, that was probably the way his stomach had been feeling from the second he had rolled out of bed, but what did he know? Brooke forced herself to ignore the flash of hurt in his eyes and added, “I’m not, so why don’t you just stop, Lucas?”

 

_ “Because I don't want to!” _ He yelled back, even as the ache pounded in his head. The pounding of his heart seemed more important, anyway. He stared down at Brooke from the other side of the island, gaze desperate and stubborn. “I don’t want to forget that you told me you missed me and that you never wanted to leave, and I’m not gonna forget the way you looked at me last night...like I was…” He had to look away when he felt his eyes get watery, missing the shaky breath Brooke took. “...like I was... _ everything  _ to you. I can’t, okay?”

 

_ No _ , it was  _ not _ okay, Brooke wanted to say. Those were fighting words and fighting words Brooke couldn’t exactly fight against. She knew that, could feel it in the way her chest began to tighten up and the tears sprang to her eyes. 

 

“Well, you should,” she told him. “You  _ really _ should.”

 

“Why, though?” Lucas inquired and Brooke turned her back to him, hands raising to grip at her hair, fingertips threatening to yank the silky locks from her scalp as she tried to fight the tears threatening to spill. Lucas began to round the corner. “Why should I, huh? Brooke,  _ baby _ ...pretty girl,  _ please _ . Tell me.” 

 

“Lucas, please -  _ don’t _ .” Brooke whirled around to make the plea, voice an octave higher, only to realize that he was much, much closer than she had realized. Too close, but it wasn’t like she could go anywhere because her lower back was digging into the counter and she felt trapped. “Lucas…”

 

“If it was about the kiss - ”

 

“It’s not about the goddamn kiss!” Brooke hissed. 

 

“THEN. WHAT?” Lucas’ voice was louder than it had ever been. It made Brooke freeze, breath hitched in her throat as a single tear grazed her cheek. Shutting his eyes momentarily as if that could assuage the pain that was now throbbing in his temples, Lucas opened them again before softening his voice, still pleading. “If it’s not about the kiss - if it’s not  _ that _ \- then  _ what _ , Brooke? Tell me what I did - anything. Just tell me, please. Tell me how I can fix this.”

 

“What if you can’t?” She demanded, voice thick with unbridled emotion. She swallowed past a lump, not even bothering to try to make the tears stop. They were traitors and her feet were traitors last night from not letting her walk away when she should have and Rachel was a traitor (and Mouth, by extension even though he was the best person in the entire world)... “Okay...what if you  _ can’t _ fix it? What if it -  _ this _ \- is broken?” 

 

“Then we make something new.” 

 

If they couldn’t go back to the way things were before, and maybe that was for the best because Lucas knew he needed to redeem himself for shutting Brooke out. If they couldn’t be like they were before, then they just needed to be better. He needed to be better - better at opening up, admitting what was in his heart, not letting his issues drive him stir crazy when he had her who had been there for him through so many things. And she had things she needed to be better at, one of them being actually communicating her feelings sometimes. But it wasn’t just a one person thing - it couldn’t be. They had to be better and they had to do that together because being apart - especially if it made them both as miserable as she currently looked, even though,  _ God  _ she looked so pretty with her eyes green and shiny with tears and the pinks of her cheeks - wasn’t doing anyone any favors. 

 

“We make something new...something better, okay,” he told her softly, taking a step forward to be fully in Brooke’s space. She sobbed without warning when he gathered her face in his hands, thumbs reaching out to wipe her cheeks dry. “If we can’t go back, Brooke, then we do something because there is no future that I want that doesn’t include you - ”

 

“Peyton has feelings for you.” Lucas’ thumbs stopped moving and Brooke stopped the whimper that had begun to rise in her throat short, heart pounding hard against her ribcage. Lucas tilted his head, eyes narrowed but inscrutable, as he gazed at her. 

 

“What?”

 

“Peyton has feelings for you,” she repeated, hating herself for having to. Clearly, Lucas’ brain had done a blue screen on her and he was going to reboot and suddenly realize that some part of him felt the same way. He had to; it was meant to be. “She told me...the night before Haley and Nathan’s wedding. She’s in love with you.” Brooke expected him to back away then, let her go and say he needed a minute to himself. Expected him to sit and think about it and consider his relationship with the blonde, and see what Brooke clearly saw. 

 

“Okay,” Lucas began. Brooke braced herself. “And?”

 

That was not what she was expecting. 

 


	3. now it's like we're scared of getting good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get a little bit of Peyton, a little bit of Peyton vs. Rachel, a little bit of Brucas...and wasted pancakes. Honestly, where were their priorities?

Peyton Sawyer knew she needed to head to class. She knew that. She just also knew that she hated how she had let things end with Lucas last night. She had chosen not to call his house for fear of tipping Karen off to his inebriation, even though she was tempted. Severely tempted, if it meant it would stop him from doing it again. He had sworn that he would the first time...but obviously, that was a lie. She had called Nathan and Haley, but neither had seen nor heard from him just yet. All she had accomplished on that front was worry Haley. And his phone, weirdly enough, was off. She knew it was; it went straight to voicemail and so unless Lucas was point blankly ignoring her and sending her to voicemail immediately upon every call, he either didn’t have it or it was just off. Neither of those situations made her worry less.

 

She should have been better at convincing him to get on the couch. No - she should not have said anything about Brooke. Peyton cursed herself for it more times than she could count after hearing the front door slam shut. She had been so thrilled that he came to her - not Haley or even his own brother, but to her - for his issues, but when she realized that they all started and ended with Brooke Davis, the thrill had died and so had her patience. It hadn’t been fair. She didn’t know why she thought it would just be easy for him, for him to let Brooke go when she had literally known since the end of last year that he wanted to be with her best friend again.

 

 _Because you’re  such a two-faced, back-stabbing bitch and you know it_ , that darker voice in her head pointed out  and Peyton honestly didn’t have a rebuttal for that.

 

A big part of her had regretted having the idea telling Brooke about her feelings for Lucas only a second after the words had already left her mouth, but by then, it had been too late. She felt the tears staining her cheeks and felt the undeniable rage and hurt radiating off of Brooke long before their confrontation the next day. She had meant it when she had said that she wanted to be honest. She just hadn’t expected for everything to fall apart as easily as they did. _Liar_ , her mind taunted her. _You knew exactly what was going to happen. You just don’t want to admit it._ She told it to go fuck itself, slamming the driver’s side door of her convertible and turning in time to see Rachel approaching.

 

“Look, Rachel, if you’re here to start something, you - ”

 

“No need to get so defensive, Sawyer. I just came by to let you know that if you’re waiting for Lucas, there’s no need to waste your time ‘cause he’s not here and he probably won’t be any time soon. He’s with Brooke.” Rachel watched in glee as Peyton’s face went white, even though she tried to pretend that it didn’t.

 

“Oh...w-well...i-is he okay?” The blonde stuttered out and Rachel pretended to think about, grinning as she spoke.

 

“Probably not, but I’m sure all he needs is rest,” she opined, practically bouncing on her toes. “I mean, after a long night of declaring his undying love to Brooke, I’m sure he’s probably floating on a cloud somewhere...probably hungover, though, but on a cloud, nonetheless.” That was stretching the truth, Rachel knew. Brooke was stubborn; she was just hoping that Lucas proved he was just as stubborn because after last night, if the guy gave up that easily, she was going to run him over with her car.

 

“Great...that sounds...great.” Peyton felt her chest tightening up, like she needed to get as far away from Rachel and this school and everything before she started crying. She didn’t even know why the hell she was ready to start crying.

 

“Too bad you don’t so convinced of that,” Rachel remarked and Peyton glared at her.

 

“What do you want, Rachel?”

 

“Nothing, really, just…” She took one, two steps forward and then she was directly standing in Peyton’s space, eyes staring into the same green ones Brooke had once drunkenly said she still wanted to scratch out. “...honestly, I’m just being Brooke’s friend and Lucas’ by default by letting you know that you lost and you need to back off.” Peyton huffed, this disbelieving sound at the back of her throat, but Rachel pressed on, voice cold and eyes even colder. “I mean it, Sawyer. You lost - it’s finished. If there was any part of you that considered yourself Brooke’s friend, you’ll leave her alone and now you’ll leave her boy alone too.”

 

“Oh, and that’s what you guys are now? Friends?” Peyton asked, incredulous.

 

“Well, considering the fact that I’m not the one chasing after her boyfriend, I’m pretty sure I am,” Rachel conclude after a shrug. “And I’m probably better at it than you ever were.” Peyton laughed then, eyes bright with rage.

 

“Okay, see here’s the thing about Brooke and me that you clearly don’t know, so let me be the one to tell you,” Peyton said, practically spitting the words into Rachel’s face. “The thing with me and Brooke is that we fight, yeah. And it’s gotten ugly before. But we come back - we _always_ do. And when that happens - when she remembers that she loves me more than she’s _ever_ given a damn about your plastic ass - what exactly do you think is going to happen to you?”

 

The girls stared at each other for a very long time, Peyton relishing in the uncertainty that had come and gone so quickly behind Rachel’s eyes. Rachel had thought about that. That Brooke needed her now - that they were good, even on their bad days, and it was so rare now to see one without the other. But eventually, considering all of the pictures Rachel noticed that Brooke hadn’t thrown away, there was going to be a time when Brooke’s life was going to have a spot reserved for Peyton Sawyer. She didn’t know if there was ever going to be a time that there wasn’t. And when that happened, Rachel knew she could tell herself that she was fine and that she and tequila had been besties long before she ever met Brooke, but would it really be fine? Would she really be okay with that, with knowing that she had always been and always will be a replacement for her “true” best friend?

 

“Well, considering the fact that even you didn’t sound so sure about that just now,” Rachel said, surprised that her voice came out so clear even as the turbulent thoughts in her head made her feel less than confident. “I guess we’ll just both have to wait and see.” Peyton narrowed her eyes at her even more and Rachel winked. “See ya around, chicken legs.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder, not even caring if she happened to hit Peyton with it.

 

Peyton just glared at her back until Rachel blended into the throng of students and then let out a frustrated sound, pulling her phone back out to see if she could reach Lucas.

 

* * *

 

 

“What do you mean ‘okay, and?’” Brooke demanded. Lucas stared at her like she had lost her mind and honestly, considering the blank look he had given, maybe she had.

 

“What do you mean ‘what do you mean ‘okay, and’?’ Lucas shot back, honestly confused. Brooke groaned, as if she was the one who was supposed to be frustrated here. She began pacing, pulling herself out from Lucas’ hold and he was left - hands still in the same position they had been when he was holding her - standing there. “Brooke, I’m not sure I understand what you expected me to say here. I’m sorry?”

 

But he wasn’t. That was the thing. Lucas didn’t feel sorry at all. It was weird that Peyton had feelings for - well, as he realized, maybe it wasn’t that weird. It definitely explained a bit, no, _a lot_ of her reactions to when he said that Brooke was the one he saw standing next to him and the countless other times he mentioned the brunette pacing back and forth. It brought clarity to what he thought had been disappointment when he had said what he said the first time, understanding to all those times Peyton looked at him with sadness - and now, understandably _longing_ , and how the fuck had he not seen _that_? - because he had swore he was going to get Brooke back. He had told himself back then that it had been grief, this belief that she wouldn’t be able to have his confidence at getting Brooke to forgive her ever again plaguing her. Now, though, Lucas knew better and he was...well, his brain was still trying to figure out what he was actually feeling.

 

What he did know was that he was most definitely not happy.

 

And ridiculously confused by Brooke because...okay, clearly he wasn’t reacting the way she expected. But why? So, Peyton had feelings for him. So what exactly? All it did was make him realize that Peyton had pretty much lied to his face when he asked her if she knew what else Brooke had to be upset about, which - okay, he did not know what the fuck he was feeling. Lucas was pissed and he had a few choice words for the blonde when he saw her next, but...but what did Brooke want from him? For him to be mad? Because he was; he most definitely was now. But considering his feelings now, why wouldn’t she have said anything earlier when they could’ve been mad together? What was he supposed to have done, confessed to his own - ?

 

“Wait a minute,” Lucas began, staring at her with disbelieving eyes and a frown on his lips that made Brooke stop pacing because his gaze was stormy. That was not good. “Did you - did you break up with me because Peyton told you has she feelings for me?”

 

No answer.

 

“Brooke, you can’t be serious.” Still no answer. It was getting annoying. “What did you expect me to do? Say ‘thanks for the memories’ and run away with her?”

 

Still no answer.

 

And yeah, that was exactly what Brooke had expected. Okay, so maybe she didn’t expect it to be that classless and heartless. She might have told herself that Lucas obviously had some deep, hidden feelings for Peyton that he had to come to terms with, but he wouldn’t have done it so tastelessly. They would have kept it at their relationship, going through the motions and telling themselves (and each other) that they were going to have all of these plans. But Lucas was going to also still be friends with Peyton and more and more, talking those same plans over with her until he realized that those plans didn’t include Brooke. And then she was going to have to deal with the “I’m sorry” and the “I never meant to hurt you” all over again. It had just seemed better, in her head, to end it before they got to that point, before she allowed time and her willingness to deny what was supposed to be the inevitable ruin them.

 

Except that clearly was not happening. Lucas wasn’t even focusing on Peyton’s feelings or really, his own. He was too busy staring at her, so many emotions in his eyes, she couldn’t even truly get a read on one of them. Her mouth opened, an attempt to say something, but words failed her. She tried again, but literally nothing could escape her; nothing in her head seemed good enough to make it better, make him feel better. Hell, she was pretty sure nothing she said would make her feel better because the way Lucas was looking at her now - his reaction- made her think that maybe she should have rethought the whole damn -

 

“Dammit Brooke!” Lucas growled, took one big step tower over her once more, and then cradled her skull in his hands, fingers tangled in her hair. Before she could utter a word, Lucas’ mouth was sealed over hers and honestly, what was talking when you had _this_?

 

The first time Lucas Scott kissed Brooke Davis since their last one at Nathan and Haley’s wedding was nothing like that last one. This was not a goodbye, not an apology that words had failed to deliver. Lucas devoured Brooke’s mouth, immediately slanting his head to slip his tongue inside, claiming the taste of rich coffee and more sugar than she ever needed for the beverage, but added just because Brooke never wanted to admit that she didn’t actually like the taste of coffee. Almost immediately, Brooke sighed into his mouth, going lax against him as Lucas kissed her soundly. She wanted to want to push him away, to tell him that this needed to stop and it was a mistake, but those were actions of a bigger person - a stronger person. Brooke was not that person.

 

Besides, it was kinda hard when Lucas delved deeper into her mouth, forcing Brooke’s jaw to open wider and flicking his tongue - because he was a sneaky sneaker who snuck and did shit like this to make her lose her mind - against the roof of her mouth, making Brooke moan into his as a chill went down her spine. Brooke’s knees went weak and she felt  Lucas’ fingertips press into her skull, so deeply as if he could somehow tether her to him in such a way that she wouldn’t be able to get away again. She didn’t want to get away again.

 

Brooke whimpered when Lucas pulled back slightly, sucking her lower lip into his mouth and grazing it with his teeth again sharp enough to make her whimper once more. “What part,” he panted, breathing the words against her lips, “of I only want you did you not get?”

 

“Mmmm...probably…” What the fuck were words, really? Brooke didn’t know, but she found herself mumbling them anyway, “...probably the me part…” She felt the chuckle shake him before it reached her ears, felt the puffs of air from it brush against her spit-wet lips, and the cool air made her lips tingle.

 

“Silly girl,” he groaned against her, hands smoothing down her neck to her shoulders all the way down until his arms wrapped around her waist, and Brooke went willingly, eyes closed still even as Lucas rubbed the tip of his nose against hers. He kissed her again - this time was chaste but meaningful still, a quick press of lips that lingers enough that Brooke can still feel him when he pulls back again behind eyelids that had fluttered closed again, the imprint of him so visceral she could feel it all the way to her toes. But pull back he did and she whined only to be cut short at his very serious tone: “I’m sorry.”

 

Brooke immediately opened her eyes only to see Lucas staring down at her with so much guilt in his eyes.

 

“F-for what?” She asked, a surprising amount of fear rising even through everything that had just happened.

 

“Because…” Lucas sighed and she was beginning to think he saw that very fear she was feeling in his eyes, because there was a resignation that sparked in his and it made Brooke’s heart ache. “...because I failed you.” Brooke shut her eyes and lowered her head until she could press her face into the hollow of his throat, sighing wetly against the warm skin there that she could feel in the dip of his V neck.

 

“It’s okay,” she said quietly, hands clutching his shirt and holding on to him just as tightly as he was holding her. “I think I failed you a little bit too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s short, but I wanted to get this out before I had to wind up working all day tomorrow. The song for this chapter, if you don’t recognize it a little bit from the chapter title, is Worst in Me by Julia Michaels, and I was thinking of the stripped version. She sung it a lot more passionately there than in the original, though both evokes this sort of guilt towards knowing that a relationship had so much more potential and could have - and still can work - but a part of both sides of the relationship doing things that hinder that greatness. 
> 
> During the first time Brooke and Lucas broke up, I wholeheartedly blame him and Peyton. The second time, though, it was a little bit of the both of them and I’ll be addressing that in the next chapters to come. It wasn’t just that Brooke should have never overreacted or Lucas should have just not been shitty. He fucked him, but communication has always been key and a big chunk of that was lacking on both sides, not just his.
> 
> Anyways, enough venting...even though y'all will more than likely read more of it as we get further along in the story. Don't forget to leave kudos, bookmark it, and review! Let me know what you guys think :D


	4. is it too late to say that I wanna come home to you?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nathan's honestly the best and far more observant than people give him credit for, there's going to be a pizza party at the River Court (how did they graduate with all of these parties?), and Brooke sits Lucas down and says words. 
> 
> Because if we're going to start with somebody, it's gotta be her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song that this chapter correlates with is I’m Sorry I Failed You by Tim Be Told featuring Jess Liao. I heard this only once in my entire life a few months back and it just so happened to show up on my playlist a few days ago and it’s cheesy considering what I ended the last chapter with, but I couldn’t not envision Lucas and Brooke with this song. If you ever get the chance, you should take a listen. It’s a simple song, but it’s so sweet and like honestly, I was jamming last night to it. 
> 
> Anyway, here’s the next chapter. Don’t forget to tell me what you think. Btw the Lucas and Peyton confrontation is coming...definitely been envisioning at least part one of that since the day this story came to mind, so look out for it.

“Hales, he’s not gonna answer,” Nathan tried telling his wife, leaning against the locker beside hers as she only shot him a dirty look before ending the call only to start another. Nathan sighed, not even bothering to stop her. 

 

Haley had already woken up that morning not feeling too well. She came back from Lucas’, unwilling to talk about whatever it had been that had made her upset. Nathan figured it had something to do with Brooke, considering their friend had downed three drinks back to back before wanting to go home. Haley had convinced him - it didn’t take much convincing considering the dark cloud that had hung over Brooke’s head - to take the brunette home since she had to talk to Lucas, and that she would place their order in so that it would be just arriving when he came home. But then she came home and all his wife had seemed to want was him and good. However, the chinese food they had ordered last night apparently hadn’t sat too well on her stomach and so he had held her head back as she threw it all up and seemingly cried at having to throw it all up. Emptying the contents of one’s stomach wasn’t always a painless process, after all. 

 

Nathan had tried to convince Haley to stay home, he really had, but all he could get her to do was eat some dry toast and wash it down with hot tea. Peyton calling and asking about his brother’s whereabouts hadn’t helped much. Discreetly, Haley had him stop them by Karen’s Cafe to get Nathan some coffee while also checking to see “if Lucas was there watching over his mom before school.” He hadn’t been, obviously. In fact, as Karen testily pointed out, he hadn’t come home and he hadn’t even bothered to call to let her know that he wouldn’t be. Nathan figured that it had little to do with anger and more to do with worry, but either way, he didn’t want to be Lucas in the face of an angry mother. Then when Skillz showed up to school with Lucas’ truck, Haley had just become even more determined.

 

“Hales…” Nathan tried once more, watching her end the call after having to endure the first second of Lucas’ voicemail again. He knew exactly which one it was, too. Even as Lucas spoke rather maturely about how he wasn’t at the phone right now, but to leave a message, you could still hear Brooke in the background, giggling her pretty little head off. Nathan had teased him for weeks when he first heard, but didn’t feel right pointing out that his brother still kept it even with that relationship as it was.

 

“I’m not calling Lucas,” Haley declared, teeth tugging at her lower lip nervously, the glasses she had yet to take off after class from having to read small text nearly to the tip of her small nose and practically begging for Nathan to pull up even as an excuse to kiss his wife. “I’m calling Brooke.” Nathan’s eyebrows rose in surprise, but he didn’t bother starting an argument. 

 

When things had begun to slow down again and everyone could go back to school, Nathan had been in the shock of his life when Haley told him that Peyton and Lucas had kissed, and that Brooke and Lucas broke up again. It didn’t make any sense. The first time, Nathan had given both Lucas and Peyton the first time. It had still been fucked up, he had wanted to punch Lucas several times over that but abstained at Haley’s urging, but he had let it slide eventually. Especially after Lucas had seriously told him his feelings and Nathan had seen how real they were. It didn’t stop him from giving his brother a friendly (read: threatening) warning about hurting Brooke again, but he knew Lucas. And he knew his brother wouldn’t do what he had done again. So, after Haley and Lucas had thrown down their swords, and Haley had told him what was happening, Nathan made Lucas talk to him. 

 

The entire story was baffling really and in all honesty, it didn’t add up. Lucas’ recount of the kiss didn’t correlate with the one Brooke had told Haley, which was why he had shoved Lucas around on the River Court because that was on Lucas. Brooke shouldn’t have had to feel like he wasn’t telling her the full story and been so eager to believe that the kiss Peyton had planted on his brother was more than what Lucas had told her. Not unless Lucas wasn’t being forthright about all of his feelings. But after Lucas had shoved him - and pretty damn hard for a guy who had not been working out as far as Nathan had known - and exclaimed how much that damn kiss hadn’t meant a thing to him, Nathan knew. He knew that something was off and that Brooke wasn’t saying everything, and neither was Peyton. 

 

A lot of people liked to believe that he and Brooke weren’t that close because they didn’t always act like it, but at the end of the day, Brooke was one of Nathan’s best friends. He had known her the longest, lived the same familial lifestyle that she had. Their parents went to the same country clubs and there were plenty of times that the Davises and the Scotts had spent a summer or two together when they were kids. They had known and understood one another better than Nathan had ever understood Peyton, which was probably why he had been so attracted to the latter at one point. She wasn’t what he was used to. Brooke could read him. She knew his motivations and his tactics, knew how ruthless he could have been because she shared those same traits. Which was why, after that night with Lucas, Nathan had approached Brooke and knew that he was right about his hunch. She wasn’t telling everything. And it was killing her.

 

However, much like he with her, it was because they knew each other so well - identified with one another so well - that he couldn't reach her. He couldn’t make Brooke tell him what was wrong if she didn’t want to, just like she couldn’t do the same to him. All he could do was remind her he was there for her and always would be, which had only prompted tears and her walking away, the conversation obviously over because Lucas had approached them. 

 

Nathan had told himself that things would right themselves, even as he watched Peyton drift from trying to talk to Brooke to only talking to Lucas, spending more time with his brother than she had in the months before. That made him curious, but he hadn’t said anything; just noted how Peyton would see his perceptive gaze and shift hers away almost immediately. Haley hadn’t been nearly as confident about things coming together, which was the only reason why he was shocked that she was calling Brooke.

 

“Hey, Tigger,” Haley called into the phone, glanced at Nathan, and then put the phone on speaker even though they were in the hallway with bustling, noisy students. He hadn’t heard Brooke’s initial greeting, but he did note a small giggle that he hadn’t heard in a while when he could hear. “I saw your car outside, but you’re not here?”

 

“Yeah, no. The Wicked Slut of the West,” Brooke began, making Nathan smirk and Haley fight to not do the same, “kidnapped - ”

 

“I don’t think you can kidnap a car, Brooke,” they both heard Lucas interject and while Haley was focused on taking a relieved breath, Nathan was able to catch the sound of skin getting hit, which only meant that Lucas had gotten swat in the arm or something by Brooke because his brother shouted out an “Ow!” muffled only by his laughter. 

 

“Whose side are you on right now?” They heard the brunette hiss out, but Haley was focused on the fact that they at least knew where Lucas was.  _ Where he’s supposed to be _ , Nathan would’ve liked to include, but kept that thought to himself. 

 

“Lucas - oh my God! Do you have any idea how great it is to hear your voice?” Haley cried, bringing the phone closer to her face because their classmates had gotten louder. They were obviously going to be late for their next period. For Haley, it was a free period. Nathan wasn’t going to be that lucky, but he was perfectly fine with being late for English. He couldn’t see why (surprisingly) Brooke and Lucas liked it so much. “You had Karen worried sick and me - do you remember me?” Lucas laughed, free and relaxed, a direct contrast to how he had been before. At least, that was how Nathan saw it. 

 

Everyone else might be able to be fooled by Lucas and Brooke on their best days, but Nathan had been more and more spotting the difference in both his brother’s and his best friend’s antics. They weren’t fooling him. He also couldn’t make Lucas get off his ass and make Brooke talk to him, just like he couldn’t make Brooke get off her ass and talk to Lucas. They were both stubborn, impossible assholes, if you asked him.

 

“Of course I remember you, Hales,” Lucas said fondly. “I’m sorry about last night. Skillz, Bevin, and Mouth kinda kept the beers coming and I - ”

 

“Beers, Lucas,” Haley hissed. “Beers, really?  _ Are you crazy? _ What about your heart and Karen and - ”

 

“Hales, I know.  _ I know. _ It was stupid - trust me,  _ I know _ , and I’m still feeling the effects of my stupidity, so know that I am not doing that again any time soon,” Lucas swore and Brooke let out some sympathetic noise Nathan was pretty sure she also stroked his brother’s face or something to that effect, but he was too busy grinning to make a comment. He’d do it when he saw the two of them later, though. 

 

“You better not.” Was the very cryptic threat his wife gave and Nathan chuckled, politely plucking the phone from her small hands, ignoring her squawk of protest. 

 

“How about making it up to her at River Court tonight? Skillz wanted to get a few of us together and - ”

 

“Are we really about to trust Skillz to throw anything small?” Brooke inquired and after the conceding look Haley gave him, Nathan had to admit that their friend had a point. 

 

“Still, it’s just ordering a few boxes of pizza and hanging out for a little bit.”

 

“Or him having the excuse to eat all of the grease in the world to get over the rest of his hangover and escape too much judgement,” Brooke opined and all four friends shared a small laugh just as the school bell rang. Everyone either needed to be in their classrooms or needed to be two seconds from it so as not to be considered late. 

 

“Look, we’ll see you guys later and make sure you call Karen to let her know that you’re okay because she was really worried.” Haley said, getting on her tippy toes to speak into the phone even though everyone would’ve heard her anyway. 

 

“Will do, Hales,” Lucas replied. 

 

“Byyyyyyeeee,” Brooke sang and then the call was over. Nathan met Haley’s gaze only then, flipping the device closed before handing the device back to her, his grin widening at the hopefulness he could read behind her curiosity.

 

“So, does this mean what I think it means?”

 

“Guess we’re just gonna have to wait and see, Haley James Scott,” he replied and she grinned in answer, getting back on the tips of her toes to plant a lingering kiss on his lips. He really did hope so, though. Brooke and Lucas deserved it.

 

* * *

 

“Well,” Lucas began and placed Brooke’s phone on the stone finish tile floors of the kitchen beside him, hand resting back against the cabinets. At some point, while Brooke had reheated the food, he had jumped into a quick shower and put his clothes in the washer, not at all surprised to see a pair of sweatpants he had sworn he had seen last on his girlfriend and a sweatshirt that he had also been pretty sure she had had before as well. By the time he had returned downstairs, Brooke had two plates ready and they had opted to eat on the floor of the kitchen in the corner, her legs on his lap and serving as a little bit of a placeholder for his plate. “The good news is that my grounding doesn’t start until tomorrow night.”

 

“Ooooohhh, I’m sorry, Broody,” she said after wincing, reaching out to rub at his shoulder apologetically. 

 

“I’m not. It was kinda worth it.” Brooke raised a challenging eyebrow.

 

“Only kinda?”

 

“Yep,” Lucas exclaimed, finishing with an extra pop on the “p.” At her mock outraged face, Lucas squinted thoughtfully, signifying with his fingers how much more getting grounded was worth it and adding, “Okay...maybe about....this much more than kinda.” Brooke threw a piece of bacon at him.

 

“Shut up!” He only laughed, plucked it off of his sleeve, and then popped the morsel in his mouth, chewing rather proudly when she only giggled, smile wide and dimples deep. He had only seen remnants of that smile as of lately and only when she was with Rachel, so Lucas was temporarily caught off guard by the radiance of it. By the time he realized that he had been gawking, Brooke cleared her throat, biting her lower lip as she swirled the last bit of her pancake through the chocolate sauce they had made from some of the chocolate chips, her cheeks stained pink. 

 

“Sorry about that.” Brooke shook her head, leaning over to swipe at the little bit of grease that had grazed his jaw from the bacon throwing a moment before.

 

“It’s okay,” she said softly, thumb still lingering against his skin even when the shine went away. Lucas sighed, leaning into her touch and letting his eyes shut for a moment, basking in the silence. When he opened them again, she had a small smile on her face, even with the trepidation he could recognize in her eyes. 

 

“But we’re not.” The conclusion wasn’t off. Despite the kiss from earlier and despite recognizing a little bit of the fact that they hadn’t been handling their relationship in the right way, they still had a ways to go before they could both agree that they were in a good place. They had things they needed to work through, conversations still needed to be had. Earlier had just given him hope they could at least get to that good place soon. 

 

“No,” Brooke agreed, moving her hand to place it on his, wrapping her fingers around his and giving a small squeeze. “But...we will be.” She said it as confidently as she could, still feeling the remnants of her wariness and insecurities flare up. She wanted this. She wanted the kisses and the curling up to Lucas again, the not having to sneak and wear the only sweatshirt of his she had in her possession when Rachel just so happened to not be home. It was going to be hard work, she knew. Just the thought of seeing their friends later - of seeing them together and knowing that they were going to have questions - made Brooke slightly nauseous and ready to make some excuse to not attend, even though she was pretty sure she’d get hunted down by Haley if she even attempted that.

 

A few minutes passed in relative silence, Lucas’ thumb stroking along the soft skin on the back of Brooke’s hand. Her head was rested against the cabinet, eyes closed in content as Lucas busied himself with staring at her. He had been bereft of such closeness for so long that all he could do was sit and marvel at it, at the feel of her warm and willing beside him, her breath soft under the barely there hum of the refrigerator right next to him, the varying scents of salty breakfasts underneath the warm chocolate that lingered in the air. Soon though, Lucas blinked and asked a question he knew was going to disrupt the peace:

 

“Brooke, why did you break up with me?”

 

Lucas had heard her earlier. The actual conviction beneath her hesitance at admitting that she really did believe that he would up and leave her. But it still didn’t make sense to him. Okay, it made sense to the extent that he recognized that Brooke still had her insecurities after how he and Peyton had handled things the first time, but Lucas still needed more. When had he given her the impression that he had any romantic inclinations towards Peyton? Had he missed something in his last love declarations to Brooke? Was there some hidden second box that even he didn’t know where mementos from that time in his life had shocked Brooke to her core? Because if there was, he clearly needed to see it and then ask where the fuck it came from, because it definitely wasn’t his own doing and he’d like to be able to defend himself. 

 

“I get that Peyton told you she had feelings for me, which - fine. I get that,” he said, stopping himself short from a rant about Peyton because the surge of anger that hit him had to be swallowed in that moment. “But you can’t...you can’t tell me that that was all it took. That that was the only stipulation you needed - ”

 

“It wasn’t,” Brooke cut him off while shaking her head. She let go of his hand and Lucas tried not to frown at the loss, but she clearly needed to busy herself with doing something. Brooke plucked her plate off of her lap and placed it to her right on the floor, straightening back up to take in a breath so deep that her cheeks puffed up. Slowly, she released that same breath, an exhale she pushed out through narrowed lips as she tried to get through the nerves.

 

To be fair, she hadn’t exactly been prepared to actually talk about all of this. Brooke had hoped that if she pushed hard enough, Lucas would give up and she could distract everyone else with excitement over the championship game that she couldn’t even believe Bevin would even consider them not being able to go to, graduation, and parties. That was how she envisioned the rest of her senior year - oh, and baby Naley. She could not forget about what was going to be the cutest baby Tree Hill had probably seen since, well, herself. She was going to be an auntie; she was allowed to think that. But talking about everything that had happened with Lucas and Peyton had never been on the agenda. Not even when she had been with Nathan and he tried getting her to talk. People might have thought that alcohol made everyone looser in the lips, but Brooke and vodka were old time lovers. Three drinks was not going to hinder her higher brain functions that much. 

 

“I...Lucas, I spent a long time wanting something real. I used to watch romcoms with Peyton and then with Haley, and I wanted that - all of that. Even if everyone else was convinced that I didn’t, which I couldn’t blame them for,” she explained. “And then I thought I found it with you. These butterflies...this need to be near you all the time just to breathe you...always only wanting you and only you. But then you proved that none of that was real - ”

 

“Brooke - ”

 

“And it hurt, Lucas,” she told him, looking him dead in the eyes and he was reminded of the night that she revealed that she had never been pregnant, the barely concealed tears as she told him that it didn’t matter that he had never meant to hurt her, but that it had still hurt all the same. His head hung at that and Brooke wanted to reach out and touch him, but she refrained. She just kept talking, all of these thoughts she had kept to herself suddenly pouring out now that they realized that they could be unleashed. “And I told myself I’d never let myself get to that point again. I’d never let myself be  _ played _ like that again. Except…” Brooke paused, blinking back an unexpected wave of tears. “...except I couldn’t do what I did before you. Not happily, anyway. I could go through the motions, sure, but sleeping with guys, pretending like I didn’t want more - all of it was a lie. And I hated that and to some extent, I had hated you. You who proved to me that I didn’t have to get naked to be intimate and who made me really wanna be the girl a guy would bring home to meet their parents. You  _ ruined _ me.

 

“And then, before I know it, when I’m thinking that everything is fine and dandy, here you come with all of these feelings and I  _ wanted _ to believe that you loved me,” she continued. Lucas’ mouth opened as if to interject, but Brooke reached out then, hand returning to hold his, silencing him. “I believed you, Lucas. I  _ do _ believe you…” She squeezed his hand to press that point. “But I meant what I said that it’s in the way that you show it. The very night we get together and you’re running off to help Peyton and I get it - I do. What happened with Ellie was big and I understand that, but you run the second Peyton calls. You went into the school after her - ”

 

“Nathan,” Lucas interjected, unable to let her continue with that process. Brooke blinked, a bit surprised by the interruption and the seriousness in his eyes. “I went into that school because there was a guy with a gun and I wasn’t about to let my little brother go in there alone. Brooke, we decided to split up, I saw blood, prepared for the worst, and then I saw Peyton. I was thinking of you the entire time…”

 

“And I love you for that, Lucas.  _ So much _ .” Brooke wanted the conversation to be over right then and there, but she knew Lucas wouldn’t let it go just that easily. Hell, she was pretty sure she wouldn’t let herself let it go now that she had started. And if she really wanted  _ this _ \- them together again - she had to keep talking. “There’s not a day that goes by that I’m not  _ grateful _ for you getting her out of there. But that still doesn’t take away from the fact that through all of this, you’re always able to talk to her and not me -  _ never  _ me. You have no idea how much it broke my heart to know that you couldn’t talk to  _ me _ about everything with Keith and your mom because you didn’t think I could identify with what happened that day during the shooting because I wasn't there - ”

 

“Brooke, I didn’t mean it like that!”

 

“That’s not the point, Lucas,” she exclaimed, hands gesticulating as Lucas watched her truly encounter the very deep-set hurt she had to have felt, her helplessness at a time when, for Lucas, she had been everything he had needed. “As always, it’s not just that you tell me you love me; it’s how you show it. We’ve talked about me putting up walls, but so do you sometimes. And you did! And even when we broke up, nothing changed for you with Peyton. She was still the one you talked to, even when you knew that I was mad at her.”

 

She was right. Even if Lucas wanted to deny every other thing she had to say every time Brooke opened her mouth, he couldn’t deny the validity of her claims. Mostly because they were her feelings, but also, looking back, Lucas could admit that there were just some things he hadn’t considered. Some implications that his actions might have left behind. He didn’t mean for it to be like that; he genuinely didn’t feel anything for Peyton. He cared about her, underneath the layer of anger and hurt, but he did. He considered her one of his best friends. But it hadn’t occurred to him, not since that time last year, to consider Peyton as anything more than a friend. Hell, anything more than almost familial. But given his past with her and Brooke, there were some things he should have considered, especially in respect to his relationship with Brooke.

 

“And I think...feeling like it was easy for you to be close with her and talk to her when it didn’t always feel like you could be that way with me, I kinda started believing that it was only a matter of time,” Brooke said, knocking Lucas from his thoughts. He’d almost forgotten that she was still speaking. “You wouldn’t have broken up with me, not at first, but eventually you’d realize that some part of you did love me, but that you weren’t in love with me. And I told you, Lucas, I never wanted to be in that kind of position again.” Brooke shrugged then, wiping at her cheeks, while concluding, “So, I thought I’d save us both the trouble. Not sure it really spared any of the tears, not really anyway.”

 

What the fuck was he supposed to say in response to that? How does one peel back layer upon layer of hurt and fear and feelings of inadequacy, and make it better? Especially when they’re part of the reason all of it is there in the first place? Lucas didn’t even really have an answer. He couldn’t take full responsibility for every single fear Brooke had, that much Lucas knew. With what he knew from her relationship with her parents and how they treated Brooke, a big chunk of her insecurities came before him; Lucas just so happened to unveil it and exacerbate the issue. But that didn’t make it okay, and it didn’t lessen his guilt. It didn’t make him feel any less unworthy of her time and affections. It also didn’t make him want to give it up, especially when he saw how  _ open _ Brooke was, how beautiful. 

 

_ So fucking beautiful.  _

 

“I’m sorry,” Lucas said and scooted a little bit closer to Brooke until her thighs were what were in his lap, Brooke practically all the way in his lap at that point. “I know that it’s not enough - that it will never be. But I can’t tell you that enough, so you might have to be prepared to hear that for a little while.” Brooke tried not to giggle, she really did, but she failed miserably and the sound was miserable too. A mix of a sob, her trying not to let that out, and a laugh that made Lucas reach to cup the side of her face with his other hand. “Looking back, I know that I don’t deserve another chance because all I seem to be doing is letting you down, but...but I wanna be selfish, Brooke, because that’s how much I love you. All I can do is promise that I’m going to be better and that I will try my hardest to never make you feel like you don’t mean as much to me because you do...you mean the world to me.”

 

“I love you,” Brooke blurted out, so much like the night they had first gotten back together and Lucas’ heart melted even more than it already had. He had heard her say that she loved him, that she had loved him, and even with those repetitions of her affections, hearing it again made something go warm inside his chest, expanding and spreading out so big that he felt full with it. 

 

“I love you too, pretty girl,” he replied, using the same hand that he was cupping her face with to thread his fingers through her hair and press her head forward until their lips met, so tender and so sweet that Brooke could have floated off of his lap and out of the house and out of Tree Hill if it meant she never had to be without it. When they separated, Lucas’ eyes were clear and striking and he gazed at her as if she was the single most important thing in the world. And maybe she was because Brooke was pretty sure that she  _ felt _ like she was. “I can’t tell you that everything will be perfect. Obviously. But I want you to know that we’ll get through it. I will never stop fighting for you and yeah, I get it. We have a lot of things we still need to talk about before we’ll be okay again, but we will be. And we’ll get through it...together.”

 

Brooke stared at him for a long time, not saying anything with the smallest of smiles on her face. But then she smiled and kept smiling, dimples appearing again.

 

“Together,” she replied and sealed it with a kiss.


	5. we can take our time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because Lucas had some things he needed to get off of his chest and Peyton needed to see how much she had hurt the boy she apparently loved more than the girl she was supposed to love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to try to work on a chapter at work. If it happens to get posted before the day is out, then I’m really on a roll. If not, know that it was eventually posted with love. 
> 
> Your reactions and reviews have been lovely thus far! Keep it up, it keeps me motivated and honestly so entertained. I always worry that I’m going to screw up when I write, so it’s just really nice to read people’s opinions and see the support. Anyway, here’s the new chapter. 
> 
> I was gonna be the asshole who split the Leyton scene up...but then I decided to be nice. As much as their relationship is going to have to be reevaluated and changed, it’s not as much of a focal point as Brucas’ is or Breyton’s. Which meant that I’ll see if my brain will conjure up a scene or two about Brooke and Lucas meeting up with everyone else for the next chapter because this one needed to be all about Brooke/Lucas/Peyton.
> 
> Enjoy.

 

“Y’all look like y’all had needed a ride,” Skillz had called out from the front yard, tossing Lucas his keys from the sidewalk before hopping into Bevin’s convertible. 

 

From the distance, all Brooke and Lucas had been able to see was the teasing Skillz was refraining from showering on them, but considering the fact that Bevin had promptly pulled his head to her shoulder and petted him up, they both knew Skillz still wasn’t actually feeling well and that more than likely, he wasn’t going to be much of anything at practice after school. The two had only been able to wince, almost in sync, and waved the couple off since they had to sneak back to campus so Whitey didn’t say he was late for practice. There was no point in either Lucas or Brooke pretending like they had ever been at school to begin with, so they cleaned up in the kitchen, Lucas got his clothes from the dryer, and they headed over to his house to hang out for a little bit before meeting everyone else. After all, as Brooke had pointedly stated, “I’m sorry, Lucas, but I don’t love you enough to be seen with you wearing the same thing you had on yesterday.”

 

That wasn’t the truth, but it was an excuse to head home for a little while and attempt to put a simple dinner together for Karen as an apology. Brooke figured that it was one meal she wasn’t going to try to help with since they both benefited from Karen forgiving Lucas quickly. 

 

By the time it had grown dark, Lucas had a meaty lasagna in the oven and a fresh salad in the fridge, had managed to wash two loads of clothes, and was putting Karen’s in her room away in her room while Brooke folded the last load in his room. She was settled back against his pillows, feet bare save for her socks, and legs folded beneath her as she sorted the clothes in piles - one for rags, another for hand towels, another for body towels, and then the rest in piles separated by whether or not they were Karen’s or Lucas’. That was how Lucas found her, a smile on his face as he watched her be so focused. 

 

“I can feel you staring,” Brooke commented, trying to sound annoyed but failing with the large grin on her face. Her hair was messily tied back in a knotted style with shorter strands that had once made up her bangs framing the sides of her face, the rest of the dark tresses cascading down her back in loose, nearly straight waves. 

 

“That’s the point.” Brooke peeked up at him.

 

“It’s creepy.”

 

“And here I thought it was supposed to be romantic,” Lucas replied and stepped further into the room, inching towards the bed with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Brooke, though, caught on to his intentions.

 

“Lucas,  _ no _ .” Obviously, he didn’t care as he crept closer and closer to her. Brooke pouted. “Lucas, I’m serious. I worked really hard to separate everything and  _ I swear to God _ if you come over here and mess everything up -  _ ahhhhh _ !” Even though she knew he was coming, nothing could stop Brooke from shrieking in delight when his hands grabbed at her sides, fingertips digging into spots that were too ticklish to be fair. 

 

Despite her best intentions, Brooke wound up flailing in her not attempts to get away from Lucas, kicking freshly washed laundry off the foot of the bed and onto the floor. Lucas didn’t even pretend to care. Amidst her peals of laughter, he had managed to tug at Brooke, practically lifting her off the bed momentarily, until she had slid down the bed, no longer in her comfortable seated position. Eventually, and with purpose, Lucas had her pinned down on the mattress, one of his legs in between hers and his weight halfway settled on hers, smiling down softly at her as her laughter died down. 

 

“That was not nice, Lucas Scott,” she told him and Lucas chuckled, eyes all crinkly with his smile and Brooke found herself smiling just as widely even though she was trying to be serious. This was a serious matter, after all. 

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“No, you’re not.”

 

“You’re right,” he conceded and bent down to kiss her so deeply that when he pulled away, Brooke had to catch her breath. “I’m not sorry.” 

 

It was cheesy, every last bit of it down to the soft look in his eyes and the way he brushed a stray piece of hair back from her face, but it all made Brooke giddy like a little girl. It made her want to kick her legs up in the air because she just couldn’t contain her happiness. Though there were still things that needed to be said, today had been the first time in a long time that Brooke had felt truly light on her feet. She felt so full of love that she was practically bursting at the seams, but there was also a peace in her bones that hadn’t been there for a long while. And while it terrified her to no end, made her want to run away back to what was safe, she also didn't want to. Brooke obviously hadn’t been happy when she was doing that and this - all of this - was hers. She didn’t want to give that up if it made her feel this content. 

 

“Mmmmm,” Lucas hummed thoughtfully, rubbing his nose affectionately against hers. “We should probably start heading out.” Brooke pouted and shook her head, gripping him by the lapels of his collared shirt.

 

“Or we could not,” she replied and pulled him down to kiss him again, deeper, gliding her tongue across the seam of his lips until they softened and Lucas let her in. Her hands immediately moved upwards so that she could thread them through his hair, arms twined around Lucas’ neck as she shifted to pull him completely between her legs. However, all it took was a swipe of her tongue against his for Lucas to make this aborted sound, some kind of low moan that thrilled her to her toes and then he was pulling away. Brooke’s pout returned.

 

“Or we could, crazy girl.” 

 

“But whyyyyyyy?” She whined and Lucas laughed. 

 

“Not that I don’t want to because...well, I’m pretty sure I don’t know how not to what to do,” he began cryptically. “It’s just that...well, we have all the time in the world for that. This…” He gestured between them with a wave of his hand. “...this has always been easy for us.” Brooke couldn’t even deny that, nodding with a wicked grin on her lips. “But how many times have we been just like this? Clothes still on, no expectations. Just us.”

 

Not often, if Brooke actually thought about it. It was actually crazy, considering the many times they had been in this very room and so many others. How many times had they honestly not jumped into bed with one another, not given into baser needs as if words couldn’t occupy the same space as naked flesh and heated whispers in the dark? And wasn’t that a part of what she had spoken about earlier? The idea that Lucas couldn’t talk to her - that he couldn’t just  _ be _ with her, when it was so damn easy for him to do so with Peyton and frankly, anyone else? The fact that Lucas seemed to take that into consideration made her heart warm and Brooke felt tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. 

 

“Well,” she whispered, biting her lower lip, eyes not on him but on one of the buttons of his top as she fiddled with the seam and the white tank top he wore underneath it as another warm layer. “When you put it that way, I guess you might have a point.”

 

“Oh, really? Is that Brooke Davis admitting that I’m right about something?” Lucas teased.

 

“Is that Brooke Davis admitting that I’m right about something?” She mimicked, making one of the most petulant faces in the world that Lucas couldn’t help but lean down and peck the tip of her nose. Brooke made another face, one of mock disgust, before her countenance softening, appreciation shining in her eyes. “But for what it’s worth, I guess I can agree to that. No sex stuff until we are both one hundred percent sure about everything.”

 

“Agreed.”

 

“Even if that means I have to wait...very, very,  _ very _ impatiently,” she added and Lucas laughed like it was punched out of him, that crinkly thing happening at the corners of his eyes again that made Brooke feel strangely accomplished and giddy all over again. 

 

“I missed you so much, crazy girl,” he told her and when their lips met again, there was no urgency to press for more, no need to make it more than what it was. A simple press of lips against lips, two lovers coming together - not completely - but close enough that Brooke could taste the tender care and all-encompassing love on his lips without Lucas even having to say anything more. Though, she was all for telling him that she missed him too when a knock on the back door filtered through the peaceful space. 

 

Both Brooke and Lucas’ heads popped up and they exchanged a speculative look before Lucas climbed off of Brooke. She had to stifle the whine at losing all of the security from his warmth, but she didn’t have much time to mourn its loss. The blinds were down, but the trepidation that filled Brooke clued her in to who it might have been and when Lucas opened the door, all she received was confirmation.

 

“Peyton,” Lucas greeted, voice emotionless as he stared at the girl who was supposed to be one of his best friends. Peyton stood, mouth open in an aborted greeting, as she got the very clear view of Brooke on Lucas’ bed, leaning back on her elbows on the mattress as if she belonged there. Her green eyes, widened, flitted from Lucas’ thoughtful expression to Brooke’s unimpressed and then back to Lucas.

 

“Luke, hey,” Peyton exclaimed, not sure if she should run from the sight of the two of them together - something she hadn’t been emotionally prepared for despite Rachel’s informing her that the two of them more than likely would be - or standing her ground. She didn’t have a reason to run, though, at least in her mind. She never ran when it came to Lucas, unlike the brunette who gave her a cold stare. “Uh, Rachel said you weren’t home when she got there, so she figured you might have headed out. I didn’t think you two would be still together...though.”

 

The question, though she phrased it as a statement to follow up her reasoning for being there, hung in the air and Brooke felt this strong pull to be one that answered.

 

“But we are,” she stated rather assertively, staring directly into Peyton’s eyes. 

 

Her confidence and honest to God aggressiveness was in direct contrast to the Brooke who had seemingly believed herself to be over and done with Lucas a few days ago. It made sense, to some extent, because Peyton had meant it when she said that she wouldn’t go after Lucas when things weren’t completely over with Brooke. That didn’t mean, however, that she was exactly happy to see that they really weren’t. Or maybe they were and Brooke was just being a bitch just because. It was a Brooke thing to do. 

 

_ Or maybe it is what you think it is and you don’t wanna face the music _ , her brain taunted her. 

 

Peyton didn’t respond to Brooke; her gaze returned to Lucas, who neither confirmed nor denied anything, just simply stared at her with one of the most intense expressions she had ever seen on his face. “I, uh, decided to bring you your homework,” she decided to say, reaching into her messenger back to pull out the paperwork she had brought with her. “Because half of the class didn’t read the assigned reading for Manning, we’ve got a bio test on Tuesday and we still have to turn in the worksheets for chapters seven and eight.” 

 

Lucas just took the papers from her outstretched hand and Peyton had never felt such coldness from him in the entire time that they had known one another. 

 

It was weird. She and Lucas had been fine last night. Granted, she knew she wouldn’t exactly be his favorite person after sharing her thoughts about him and Brooke, but she had not anticipated his anger to carry over into this far into the day. It was getting darker outside, practically nighttime according to the sky, and yet Lucas stared at her with no hint of warmth in his eyes. It was mind-boggling and nerve-wracking, and Peyton wanted to ask, but then she remembered Brooke’s presence and she felt herself go white.

 

Because if Brooke was  _ here _ \- if Lucas went to Brooke and he got her back - that meant Brooke had done what she hadn’t done when she broke up with Lucas. She told him about Peyton’s feelings for him.  _ Oh God _ , she thought, breath catching in her throat. There was a tick in Lucas’ jaw at that sound and Peyton needed to get the hell out of here, calm her breathing and then get to her car and - 

 

“Well, I should just...leave you two to it then,” she said, just about to take a step backwards when Brooke was suddenly sitting up fully on the bed, the tips of her toes barely grazing the floor of Lucas’ bedroom.

 

“Don’t bother,” Brooke told her and Lucas’ head immediately swerved to meet the brunette’s gaze, eyes wondering. Brooke shrugged. “It’s fine. You two should talk. I’ll go set up the salad for Kar - ”

 

“No.” Lucas’s gaze flicked back at Peyton, leaving her frozen in place and a chill crawling up her spine in nervous apprehension. “No, you should stay. This won’t take long.” Both of Brooke’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline as she gazed at the back of her boyfriend’s head. Before long, though, she nodded and then sat at the end of the bed, taking a deep, steadying breath that Peyton felt like she could use more than the other girl. 

 

A stretch of time passed before anyone said anything and at one point, Peyton would have loved to have this. Her best girl friend and her best guy friend in the same room with her, the three of them hanging out and just being together. It didn’t matter about the past or any of that bad stuff like Brooke and Peyton’s last big fight, or Brooke and Lucas breaking up. Just them and she had longed for it since Brooke stopped speaking to herself and Lucas. She perhaps didn’t say it often enough, but she did miss Brooke and she felt insurmountably alone at times when she would walk the halls without Lucas and would have to see Brooke with Rachel, knowing that the redhead was in  _ her _ spot with  _ her _ best friend. 

 

But this was not what she had envisioned nor missed. There was something pressing in the air, closing down on her chest and making it hard to take even the shakiest of breaths. Another second passed and Peyton couldn’t stand it any longer, blurting out:

 

“Look, Lucas, I don’t know what’s going on here, but if you need to be alone with Brooke, just - ”

 

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Lucas inquired, calm. Peyton was not fooled. She swallowed a lump in her throat that had not been there before. 

 

“Wh-what?” She glanced at Brooke, but Brooke looked almost as uncomfortable as she did in that very moment, as if she didn’t want to be present for this conversation any more than Peyton did. 

 

“Were you ever going to tell me about what you said to Brooke?” He asked slowly and Peyton’s lips fell open with an answer, but no sound came. Not at first, anyway. Could anyone blame her? It felt like she was standing on this precipice and whatever she said could make the world around her crumble to dust, and there’d be no one left to see if she was alright. She didn’t want to do this, especially not with Brooke here. But Lucas looked like he was demanding an answer and Peyton’s mouth ran dry. 

 

“I...Luke...I never meant for things to - ”

 

“Were. You. Going. To. Tell. Me?” Lucas snapped and Peyton blinked, tears rushing to her eyes. 

 

“No,” she immediately replied, shutting her eyes again, this time for a longer amount of time. When she opened them again, they were shiny, reddening at the edges with the tears she kept at bay. “Okay?” She turned that question to Brooke who seemed to be shaking just a little, but still staring at her with a blank face. Her gaze returned to Lucas as she continued, “I don’t know what Brooke might have told you, Lucas, but I was never going to bring it up, not if things weren’t over between you and Brooke.”

 

“Right,” Lucas drawled, nodding to himself as if he was clued in to something that Peyton was not. Then his eyes narrowed into slits and he followed up with, “But it was fine to bring it up to  _ Brooke _ when things obviously weren’t over between us then, though, huh?” 

 

Peyton didn’t have an answer to that. 

 

Lucas’ laugh was short and biting, and he ran a hand over his mouth when he tore his gaze from hers, but Peyton had seen the barely restrained rage just below the surface. She swallowed past another lump, looking past him to Brooke who, this time, did not meet her gaze. Brooke’s own eyes were shiny with unshed tears and the second Peyton’s eyes were on her, she looked away, chin shuddering in an attempt to not say anything. This wasn’t her time; this was Lucas’. 

 

“I don’t know what’s worse - you telling my girlfriend that you had feelings for me knowing what that could do to her or you lying to my face about not knowing what the hell happened to make her break up with me,” Lucas stated, bringing Peyton’s full attention back to him and the sound she made might have been a small sob, but Peyton could neither confirm nor deny that. 

 

“I wasn’t trying to steal you, okay?”

 

“Because stealing doesn’t require consent and someone  _ actually _ wanting to be stolen, huh,” he asked, sarcasm practically dripping from his voice. “Which, by the way, I  _ never _ wanted to be. And I haven’t...not in a  _ very _ long time.” A lone tear escaped from Peyton’s eye. A few weeks ago and Lucas would have been ready to fuck up anyone for causing that to happen. A few months ago, with Brooke by his side, he would have already been in the process of doing so, the both of them ready to wage war on whomever it was that had the audacity to make Peyton Sawyer cry. But all it did was make him angrier, outraged that she could be the one in tears when he and Brooke had suffered more. Which was why he exploded. “How many times did I come to you asking for your help? How many times was I on your floor, at a loss, and needing you to give me something -  _ anything _ \- that would make sense of things? 

 

“How many times did I ask you point blank to your face if you knew any reason why Brooke would break up with me? How many times did you look at me dead in my face and lie - ”

 

“I  _ never _ lied to you,” Peyton insisted. “I didn’t know, okay? I didn’t think she’d break up with you just because I told her I had feelings for you.”

 

“You didn’t think she’d be happy either, did you?” Peyton didn’t answer that one and Lucas swore under his breath, both of his hands raising to push his hair back, just needing something to do instead of something stupid like punching his door. Peyton sniffled, arms wrapped around herself in light of the cool nighttime air. 

 

“I never asked for this, Luke, any of it,” she said, voice cracking. “I just wanted to be honest - ”

 

“About what, though, Peyton? What did you have to be honest about? Your feelings? What good would it have done either of us to know about them, huh?” Lucas’ voice had risen and Peyton glanced at Brooke, almost pleading, but the brunette had setted for pacing the room. But never leaving - no, that was one thing Peyton was sure she  _ wouldn’t _ be afforded. 

 

Brooke wasn’t leaving any time soon, and in more ways than one. 

 

“I’m sorry, okay? I never meant to hurt anyone,” she swore. Lucas shot her a pained look, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe her. 

 

“But you did anyway,” Lucas said pointedly and Peyton bowed her head in shame. “Even if you did have feelings for me, I wouldn’t have been mad, but you could’ve told anyone. Literally,  _ anyone else _ and you chose Brooke. You chose  _ her _ , knowing our past, knowing that we,” he pointed between himself and Peyton, “fucked up. If you wanted to get it off your chest, there were plenty of other people to go to, so why Brooke? Why then?” 

 

Peyton didn’t have an answer for that. At the time, she hadn’t thought about it too deeply. Lucas had returned, she was still reeling from having confessed her love for Lucas while with Jake, and all it took was a scene with Lucas in a bed on stage, and Peyton had felt it all come rushing to her. The longing, the fluttering in her belly because they were so close, the constant desire to be in his presence - and she hadn’t asked for none of them. That very thought had been the reason why she had confessed to Brooke in tears. Not just trepidation and fear over how she’d react, but because the feelings were there in the first place and she had no idea where they had come from.

 

Contrary to anything Brooke might have thought, Peyton hadn’t been harboring any feelings for Lucas on the low and just biding her time to tell Brooke. She really hadn’t. They had just appeared and at the time of the kiss in the library, Peyton hadn’t considered it as anything serious. It was a goodbye kiss in her delirious, losing-blood-and-probably-dying-over-here head. But after that dream and coming home and seeing Lucas, things had shifted and when anything abrupt like that happened, Peyton’s first person to run to is Brooke. It’s always been Brooke. She knew it would have been awkward and highly uncomfortable, but she thought she and Brooke had moved past what happened yesterday. And now, it was like she was being punished all over again for just wanting to be upfront about something as opposed to Brooke finding out about it via some third party. 

 

Except this time, the punishment was in the form of Lucas’ wrath. 

 

And that was infinitely worse. 

 

“I think you should go,” Lucas eventually said, abruptly, and Peyton gaped, not even bothering to stop the tears from leaking. He just looked done and Peyton couldn’t just let it end like this; she couldn’t lose him.

 

_ Too _ , her brain supplied,  _ can’t lose him too _ . 

 

“Lucas, please, I’m so - ”

 

“I care about you, Peyton,” he confessed and she could see the strain in his form, the way Lucas held himself tightly as he stared her down, voice almost pleading. “And it’s because I care about you that I’m telling you that you should leave...before I say something I’m going to regret.”

 

Peyton sobbed. Brooke had stopped pacing, arms folded over her chest after she had subtly wiped a tear or two away before the blonde could’ve seen. Was it worth it, Brooke wanted to ask - no, demand. Had it been worth all of this? The three of them, broken and on the outs? Any trace of an unstoppable trio destroyed, ripped apart like Brooke had done one of her favorite pictures of the three of them? But she already knew the answer, didn’t have to bother verbalizing it in the face of Peyton’s reddened eyes and Lucas’ tense frame. 

 

It had never been worth it.

 

“I guess,” Peyton began tearfully, throat clogged with pain. “I’ll, uh, see you guys...later.” She didn’t even think about the River Court being later. It was no longer an option for her because if Lucas was like this, it was only a matter of time before Haley was as well and then Nathan - and Peyton couldn’t do this, not right now. Not ever. 

 

“You do that.” And neither could Lucas, apparently. 

 

Peyton glanced up one more time, not at him, but at Brooke and she could see the last vestiges of regret in Brooke’s eyes, as if she would possibly take back telling him if she could. But she wouldn’t, that much Brooke was sure about herself and Peyton was beginning to be sure of when it came to the girl who used to be her best friend in the entire world. Peyton felt another rush of tears hit her, but instead of letting either of them see it, she turned her back, briskly walked down the steps, and to her car. It was only when she had started the engine did Lucas close the door, letting out a large breath. 

 

“You didn’t have to do that,” Brooke said quietly. He turned around to see her back at the foot of the bed, seated, and staring up at him with sad, kind eyes. He sighed again and headed towards her, sitting beside her so close that she could feel a part of him instinctually lean against her. 

 

“I didn’t do that for you.” The admittance drew Brooke’s eyes to his face, searching for any signs that it was a lie. “Not really, anyway.” Lucas still stared at the door, where Peyton had once stood, and did so for a long while in silence. Before long though, he sighed again and looked at Brooke. “She was always your best friend first - ”

 

“Lucas, you don’t have to - ”

 

“But she was supposed to be  _ my _ friend as well. And she lied to me,” Lucas continued on. “I would’ve been pissed, regardless, to know that she told you she had feelings for me because she had no right to do that. Not after last year. But the point was that I cried to her, Brooke. I sat on her floor for hours,  _ hurting _ , and she said nothing. She smiled in my face and laughed with me, acting like she never knew that she had literally stood between me and the one thing that would’ve made me genuinely happy. What kind of a friend does that to you?” 

 

Brooke had called Peyton a two-faced, back-stabbing bitch in her anger. Some part of her wanted to say it again, but that had been an insult for a time when there wasn’t so much raw hurt in the room. So, she refrained.

 

“Maybe that was her way of fighting for something she believed in,” she opined. “Her own way of fighting for you.”

 

“At the cost of of someone else’s happiness,” Lucas asked harshly, not angry - not at her. But Brooke felt it all the same and wrapped an arm around his waist from behind, leaning up to sit her chin on his shoulder. “If that’s what it takes - hurting someone who’s supposed to mean more than that to you - then I don’t want it.” Brooke nodded gently, reaching up with her free hand to tug at Lucas’ head until he rested it against hers, pressing herself as close to him as she could in that position. Nowhere near thinking about pulling away when his arm shot out and wrapped itself around her, fingers clutching at her tightly as if she would. 

 

“I know,” she told him, comforting. “I know.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say that this confrontation was more about Lucas than about Brooke, and Peyton pretty much disappointing him as opposed to Brooke. Not because I’m not prioritizing Brooke’s perspective on that or addressing the fact that her best friend fucked up, but I figured that the person who needed to tell Peyton about herself and really get her to think about her actions shouldn’t be the boy in an attempt to defend his girl. It wouldn’t really make Brooke or even Lucas feel better, not really. But know that there’s going to be a scene in the next few chapters where Peyton gets hit with some truth bombs and the Breyton relationship is called to attention.


	6. you haven't once thought of me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brooke must be so proud. She has the boy and Peyton is left alone without both of her best friends. Brooke, however, does not see it the same way. Prepare for the feels D:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so from the bottom of my little heart, I want to give a heartfelt apology for disappearing like I did. I saw reviews and I appreciated every last one of them, but I couldn’t write. I’ve been dealing with a long-term writer’s block (does that even exist??) for about four years now and my depression has never really gone away, and so it’s hard sometimes to get the motivation to write even when I see amazing reviews and kudos. I hate the idea of disappointing people, but I’m still a work in progress and I’m still recovering. For that, I do apologize. Writing used to be one of my favorite pastimes and greatest loves, and it’s just so hard to love what I put out now when there’s a voice in my head saying that nothing I do is good enough.
> 
>  
> 
> With that being said, I will be trying to more and more to force myself out of the writing funk that my brain likes to put me through, if only to see both of my stories through. Especially considering this is my shorter story idea and I’ve wanted to complete this story for about a year now.

Brooke must be proud.

The cynicism was startling amidst the hurt Peyton was hurled with when, once more, Lucas dodged her in the halls of Tree Hill High, not even bothering to pretend like he hadn’t seen her. It hadn’t even been one of her attempts at confronting him; in the process of rushing from the library from free period to her actual art class, Peyton saw Lucas emerging from the very corner she headed towards. 

Her mouth barely opened to say - what, she didn’t know, she hadn’t really thought about what she could say if she did get the chance to actually greet Lucas without being ignored - practically anything when he met her gaze briefly. Then, without even the slight inclination that he was either happy or not to see her, he kept walking. The rejection stung, even more than the tears that burned at her eyes, but Peyton shook it off in favor of going to class. At least then, she could put it - and him and  _ her _ \- out of her mind for an hour before probably having to do it all over again. 

However, class ended quicker than she had wanted. The bell ringing sounded louder in her ears, and Peyton was left peering around in confusion for a moment while her classmates scampered off to God knows where, some scrambling to gather papers and books as if they couldn’t wait to leave. Peyton wasn’t one of them. She took her time. She wasn’t exactly ecstatic about being back in those halls, back to the cold eyes and distance. She shuddered at the thought, even as she reluctantly gathered her own things. 

Only a couple of days had passed since Lucas had pretty much dismissed her, a day or so less since it became the trending topic that Brucas was once more alive and well. Distantly, Peyton was happy for them. A dark cloud had dissipated, it seemed, from both Lucas’ and Brooke’s heads. Their smiles easier, their laughter genuine. It was not that Peyton had been oblivious to the discomfit that had come with their breakup; she had been intimately aware of Lucas’ pain, had seen it up close and comforted him through it in the best way that she could. She knew that he had been hurting and that it would take time to heal. She had simply thought she would be the one to help the process, not the one shut out of it and his life entirely. 

It made matters worse that Haley was still nice to her and cared about spending time with her regardless of what was going on with herself and Brooke, that the others still joked around with her in the halls like Bevin bumping hips with her and smiling so brightly that Peyton felt tears welling up without preamble. 

That meant that Brooke and Lucas had said nothing. They had dodged questions about her and the situation, refused to spill any private detail that somehow still remained between the three of them. It should have been a relief, not the dread that clogged her throat and made it hard to stomach the idea of lunch, let alone the actual food that felt like lead in her stomach when she did eat. It felt like an attack, some subtle maneuver on Brooke’s part to let the guilt fester over until it burst because Peyton would eventually pick at it. 

Then Peyton felt guiltier, like she was about to vomit because that was not Brooke. Brooke wasn’t some demonic beauty sent to wreak havoc on Peyton’s life with the help of Peyton’s own sins. Brooke could be manipulative, yes, but she wasn’t a monster. She wasn’t that vicious. That didn’t stop the petty, fearful part of her from thinking otherwise. 

“Did they ever say why they broke up in the first place?” Some random classmate, a junior, asked on the other side of Peyton’s locker.

Peyton tried not to look, she really did. But, as luck would have it, look she did and at the best part too - Brooke leaned up on the tips of her toes and planted a brief kiss on the corner of Lucas’ mouth, eyes dancing with glee as she grinned at him. If Lucas was supposed to look to be in the depths of consternation, it was a bit difficult with the way that very corner of his mouth twitched, with the way a subtle flush suffused his cheeks. Peyton tore her gaze away resolutely, closed her eyes, and took a breath. When she opened them again, she had missed the initial response the girl’s friend had given. 

“Well, you didn’t hear it from me, but I’m pretty sure I heard Ashley say that it’s more than likely - ”

Peyton shut her locker louder than necessary. 

The blonde speaker’s eyes immediately widened in surprise while her redheaded friend looked every which way but in Peyton’s. Their breaths seemed to stutter in their chests and Peyton smiled, frostily, before turning away from them with a frown. Didn’t bother feeling guilty for the sound of them scurrying away in fear, not until she realized that they hadn’t been the only ones startled by the commotion she had made.

A handful of classmates, all in different positions, paused and stared, and Peyton felt the heat rise to the tips of her ears in embarrassment. She licked her lower lip, bit it, and then braved a look at the corner of her eye. Brooke glanced between Peyton and Lucas, worry crossing her features as something indiscernible crossed Lucas’. Then, with just a deep exhale, Lucas turned and walked away, acknowledging the faint, “Lucas,” Brooke gave with turning back around briefly to press a chaste kiss to her temple. Brooke was left to worry at her lower lip as she watched her boyfriend’s retreating back, sighing heavily. It lasted for only a brief moment, but it was surely enough to fuel the gossip mill, even after the threatening glare Brooke tossed at everyone before they all went back to their regularly scheduled programming. 

Peyton should have just walked away like so many of their classmates and peers were doing, should have ducked her head and kept it pushing like she has done when it came to Brooke since their last real confrontation at Rachel’s party. But Brooke had turned back to her locker and Peyton saw the insides had been re-decorated once more, pink frills and markings and this picture of the other girl with Lucas that once before never made her want to throw up all over it. 

Now, she was incensed, wanted to rip the door off its metal hinges and she wanted to scream. She wanted to scream because Brooke got what she wanted. Lucas hated her and he wasn’t talking to her, and that was all Brooke had wanted from the beginning, right?

“Please,” she called snidely, a mockery of a smile on her face even as she tasted the bitterness that marred her own tongue. “Don’t try to look guilty now.” Brooke froze, turned her head to cast a wary glance Peyton’s way, but she didn’t respond. Just took a steadying breath - as if she wasn’t the one with her world set right side up and all perfectly like she always wanted - and turned back to her locker. It made Peyton continue. “Don’t stop playing the bitch on my account, now that you’ve gotten the boy that’s always been yours.” 

“He wasn’t always mine.” Brooke said it so quietly, Peyton almost didn’t hear her. But the brunette still didn’t turn around to face her, even as her tone went icy and accusatory as she added, “as you so boldly proved the first time you tried to steal my boyfriend.” Peyton sneered at her. It didn’t provide the miniscule satisfaction she expected, not when it wasn’t to the other girl’s face. 

“God, you must be loving this, huh?”  _ No, she doesn’t _ , her brain shouted at her, indignant, appalled.  _ You know she doesn’t. _ But it was hard to listen a voice of reason when Peyton felt all of this hurt and anger burst forth, when she only had this one person -  _ the easier target _ , her brain supplied, unhelpfully - before her who still. Would not. Look at her.  _ What the fuck? _ It didn’t even occur to her, even though the current audience was still slowly dissipating, that they weren’t alone just yet. “You get the boy back, I’m out of the loop - you must be soooooo proud of yourself…”

“Peyton...please.”  _ Look at me _ , she screamed at the girl, mentally, eyeing the hand Brooke had put up as if that feeble attempt could render Peyton silent. 

“No, come on!” She couldn’t help but goad. “This must be your crowning moment. You’ve finally got Lucas back in your arms and now on  _ your _ side, and I’m without my friend - ”

“I thought  _ I _ was your friend,” Brooke interjected and only then did she whirl around to look at Peyton, and Peyton really wished that she hadn't. Peyton wished that Brooke had never telepathically heard her - or was that simply her patience beginning to wear thin? - demands because look Brooke did. She looked and there was something behind the anger, something biting and dangerous and it made Brooke’s eyes seem bigger, wetter even. Something very familiar, something that reminded Peyton of big hazel eyes, shining with tears she struggled to hold back, words merging with sobs as Brooke explained that Lucas had broken up with her and Peyton had seen - firsthand - how much it had devastated her best friend, even as she wound up in Lucas’ arms later that very day. It made something shake within her, shake her so damn hard to her core that she wasn’t sure if she was physically trembling or not; made something ache in her chest and weigh the cavity down so heavily that she feared it would crack under the pressure, make it crack and break and leave her as shattered as Brooke currently looked.

It made Peyton’s mouth go dry. 

“I thought  _ I _ was your best friend and that Lucas was  _ my _ boyfriend, and that I honestly had nothing to worry about because it was  _ never _ going to be like last time,” Brooke continued, seemingly oblivious to Peyton’s inner turmoil. “Because he is insanely in love with me and so were you.” Peyton could have sworn she blinked back the tears, but when she opened her eyes again, she was met with Brooke’s unshed ones and a few leaking from her own eyes. “Because I was your Brooke and you weren’t going to hurt me again.” Brooke sneered, fat tears blurring her vision but she held to them. “But that was all a lie.”

“Wow,” Peyton bit out, trying so hard to not remember that night, not remember feeling the disappointment that somehow, she had managed to clue Brooke in to the kiss that should have never happened when she had honestly not wanted to be so awkward with Lucas after the funeral. “I’m the one Lucas hates right now and you’re the one that gets to play victim?”

“Do you even hear yourself when you talk to me?” Brooke cried. “I am hurt and angry still about  _ you _ , and the only person you can think of is my boyfriend? You can bitch to me about me, but once Lucas is involved, it’s nothing but tears, the end of your world, and no one else but you being able to play the victim?”

“Oh, come off it, Brooke - ”

“No,  _ you _ come off it,” Brooke shouted and her voice echoing reminded them that they were in a hall and that roaring sound in Peyton’s ears went mute. The air was still in that very moment and she was keenly aware that, although the last bell had just rung and people were currently late for their classes, they were still not alone. Brooke seemed to realize it too because she glanced about at the lingering nosy stares before snapping, “Don’t you all have places to be?” It was enough then to make the remaining probing eyes and ears disappear completely, but Peyton knew. 

This was going to be in everyone’s ears come the next bell. 

“So, what? You’re allowed to play the bitch when you don’t have Lucas, but now that you do, you want to turn a brand new leaf?” Peyton asked, incredulous. Brooke sighed, as if she were tired. As if she were the one who had the right to be over and done with this conversation when Peyton revelled in it. 

Revelled in the fact that this was the longest in  _ so fucking long _ that she had held Brooke’s attention, that she was able to be in her space - maybe not in the best position, but she’d take what she could get - without having to see her have the time of her life with Rachel on her arm, and in  _ Peyton’s _ place. “This is what we do, Brooke. We disagree. We have a big fight and in the in-between, we do this. We go back and forth, and I call you a bitch and you call me a bitch. And we say things we don’t mean. And then eventually, when everything cools down and you realize that shopping with Bevin is boring when you don’t have someone who knows every single one of your inside jokes, we make up and we - ”

“How?” The demand struck Peyton dumb, made her brow furrow up a little bit in confusion until Brooke decided to clarify. “How exactly do we ever really make up, Peyton? By sweeping it all under the rug and pretending it’s ok that five seconds ago, we were literally making each other cry?”

“Yes,” Peyton cried out and it was ridiculous how much that did not relieve her. How much Brooke didn’t exactly looked pleased or like she liked their history, their typical way of making up and breaking up and doing it all over again when it was all Peyton wanted. That and Lucas being her friend again, at him being able to hang out in her room or her at his place, him at his computer and her with her drawing pad, the only sound in the room her charcoal to paper and his fingers noisy on the keyboard. “Because that is normal - that is _ our _ normal. You mad at me, and then me mad at you, and then us back together again because we’re no good without each other because  _ that _ . Is  _ our _ . Normal.”

“Well, I don’t want that normal.” Brooke stated, her voice gone soft, the aggression gone from her diminutive frame. 

The energy was suddenly zapped from Peyton as well and she felt defeated, absolutely shell-shocked, as Brooke went on. “Before Lucas ever showed up to my door, I was prepared for that normal. I was prepared for him eventually realizing that maybe there was something more with you, and the two of you getting together, and then eventually allowing myself to officially try to put him out of my heart so that you and I could be friends again. So, that I could be your  _ best _ friend again. So, that we could finish out our senior year and the rest of our lives as I always envisioned us doing it. Together. 

“But that’s not normal, Peyton. I know it’s not because I would never -  _ ever _ \- want that for me and Haley. I can’t even imagine it and for you to be proud of it, like that makes our friendship - this  _ thing _ we call friendship, because  _ this is not friendship _ , Peyt - you can call it good and right, and I just…” Brooke trailed off. It was only then that a tear streaked Brooke’s pale cheek, the skin only slightly flushed from emotion. A sick part of Peyton found pleasure in seeing that tear, in seeing that she wasn’t the only one so affected by the growing distance between all of them. “That’s just sad and I deserve better than that.”

“Right,” Peyton scoffed, tearfully, bitter. “You deserve Lucas and I deserve to be alone.” Brooke stared at her then, disbelief bleeding into her irises even as the tears bled out onto her creamy skin. She shook her head, disappointment in her frown. Blinking, though, she refused to scream out the frustration she felt, refused to exert more and more energy when it seemed like they would be coming back to the same thing over and over and over again. 

“No, you deserve better, Peyton.” The words clawed at her in a way that no insult could have, scratched past her reddened eyes and quivering mouth and into her currently clogged throat and down, deep into her soul because for some odd reason, this felt like losing. 

Peyton didn’t know what she had expected when she came after Brooke - no, that was a lie. She knew what she expected. She expected their special brand of twisted normal, of vitriolic diatribe that wouldn’t end until Brooke huffed and stormed away to hide the fact that she wanted to cry because what Peyton might have said in that moment cut a little too deep, and Peyton refused to watch the exit because she knew if she looked up, she would take back whatever petty, judgemental thing she said simply because Brooke called her out on her daily dose of hypocrisy. 

She expected their shared silence and her acceptance of it because the silence only meant healing and inevitably, meant that in a day or two they would be closer to reconciliation and promises of being better - promises that they would keep because this Lucas situation was the first time that they had ever regressed. The first time that they had ever not been able to put old arguments behind them and find new things to argue and differ on about until the next big blow out. 

Brooke and Peyton had been fierce, and maybe sometimes explosive, but they were those things together. And they had made it work, always. 

So, why did it feel like they couldn’t do it this time?

“You deserve to be loved and I deserve a best friend who mourns the loss of me more than she mourns the loss of a boy who came to wipe her tears away long after I cried those very same tears when she couldn’t fathom doing doing it for herself,” Brooke said and Peyton didn’t try to stop her from walking away. 

With the way the tears blinded her eyes, the way the grief choked her and made her sob, she wouldn’t have been able to say which way the girl she once called a sister went in the first place. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably one of my shortest chapters, at least it feels like it to me, but I just again wanted to get something out instead of anyone thinking I abandoned the story as a whole. Thank you guys for all of the love and the reviews, and stay tuned!!


	7. and I guess that's why they call it the blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brooke's more than likely gonna owe Haley several pints of mint chip chocolate ice cream and Peyton's seen much better days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Transition wise, this chapter sucks to me as I could not - for the life of me - figure out how I was going to do this. So, I’m breaking this up into two parts. It might seem like a lot of Peyton when this is supposed to be a Brucas story, but I promise our lovebirds are going to get some loving in. 
> 
>  
> 
> And yes, I’m still here. Thank you for the comments and the kind words. They truly mean a lot to me.

“Hey, Peyton!” 

Let it have been about a month ago, and Peyton wouldn’t have flinched when she heard his voice yell her name, wouldn’t have taken a surprisingly shuddering breath and squared her shoulders, eyes having fallen shut because she knew this was bound to happen. Lucas Scott didn’t always forgive easily and he could hold a grudge when he wished to. 

Their conversation in his room what felt like a lifetime ago felt unfinished and a part of her had always known that eventually, when the anger welled up too hot and too volatile beneath his skin, Lucas would come for her again. And this time, he would end her. She had anticipated it, longed for it even as much as she shied away from the searing glare he’d shoot her way when she ventured too close in the library. 

She hadn’t anticipated Lucas Scott holding her missing leather jacket. The gasp shocked even her and even if she wanted to, Peyton couldn’t fight the smile that stretched her mouth almost too wide, the relieved tears springing to her eyes as he tossed the clothing item into her waiting hands. 

The smooth leather felt cool against her palms and Peyton breathed out an “oh my God!” that seemed louder than Lucas’  declaration that he had found her beloved outerwear. And Lucas wanted to not care about her unbridled joy - he really did, which was why he had kept walking while the leggy blonde had taken a second to press the leather against her body, to search its pockets as if it held her salvation in its dips and crevices, but not caring was a completely different Lucas.

A Lucas he couldn’t be even if he tried. 

Lucas had not lied when he told Peyton that he cared about her. He did. He loved her, even. A person would not be able to hurt you or disappoint you, or make you angry enough to want to say things you know would hurt them if some part of you didn’t care about them - if a part of you didn’t care what they thought and how they felt. And Lucas, despite his distance, still cared even as he went the opposite way that Peyton did, even if he didn’t check in on her like he normally would nor walked with her to classes like he had gotten used to doing. 

“I wouldn’t be...mad if ya know...you decided...you wanted to talk to her,” Brooke had tried to convince him, having slid herself onto Lucas’ lap rather comfortably despite the presence of the book he had very much been invested in. 

Later, she’d assure him that he had only been feigning diligence when in reality, he had read the same page twice, but he’d kissed her until she couldn’t breathe and had to concede that he truly had been focusing, even though they both knew that he had not. 

Lucas had stared at his girlfriend for a stretch of time, seeing her chin waver just slightly and a wave of uncertainty wash over her steady hazel gaze, and he had felt an immense surge of love flow through him and out of him until he couldn’t help but cup the back of her head and kiss her again. It was the only logical choice, after all. 

“She’s still gonna mean something to you, Luke,” she had declared, breathless and the tip of her nose brushed against his. “She means something to me, too. I can’t...necessarily be unhappy that my guy is too nice to hate my girl just because I do.” Lucas had chuckled and pulled Brooke, gently, until her head was cradled against his shoulder, his arm wrapped securely around her until her petite frame shuddered, then relaxed fully against him. 

“Just because you want to,” he had corrected her and she hadn’t agreed, hadn’t said anything, but they both had known he was right. Because they both knew he wanted to hate Peyton Sawyer too, but couldn’t accomplish it even if he had lost all of his memories and the only thing he had to go on was a piece of paper that told him that he did. It was just impossible. 

That didn’t mean that Lucas’ anger had fully abated, nor had his hurt. 

“That is your jacket, right?” Lucas interjected, not trying to ignore the importance of Ellie’s picture being missing, but wanting to get to the crux of the matter. Which, clearly, was that he did not like Derek. He didn’t care that after this, he was still going to need his distance from Peyton. He did not care that he would have to observe from a corner more carefully now their interactions, nor that this was becoming just one more thing Lucas had to be stressed over when senior year should be just winding down. 

What he cared about was that Derek was not to be trusted - Lucas didn’t know the whys nor the hows, but he just  _ knew _ and that that meant he had to be cautious about everything. Especially about Peyton’s favorite jacket going missing and being found on a bruised up girl wearing a blonde wig even he had mistaken for Peyton’s natural hair, who happened to have a cut on the same exact leg Peyton had her scar.  _ Coincidence, my ass _ , Lucas thought darkly, suspiciously. 

“Yeah,” Peyton answered, oblivious, still too happy that she had it back - still too happy that he was here and they were walking together, talking. Even if she didn’t understand the darkness in Lucas’ thoughts, the jitteriness she felt him exuding. “Where’d you find it?” Lucas answered with a question of his own:

“Look, does Derek know...about the scar on your leg from when you were shot?” Peyton paused, swiping at the curled bangs she almost resented herself for growing out as she peered at Lucas.

“Yeah, why?”

“Your jacket was on a girl in the hospital,” he admitted. Peyton blinked once, twice, three times before her gaze turned incredulous. 

“What?”

“And she just so happened to be bleeding in the exact same spot where you’d been shot in the leg,” he added and he tried to come off as casual, almost nonchalant even, but Lucas didn’t even believe himself so he knew - no, he  _ hoped _ \- that Peyton also saw through it all to understand his worry. 

Them not being on speaking terms was not the same as him not giving a fuck about her because there was no way anyone could convince him to not be concerned when there’s literally a girl who had Peyton's hair and a wound to match Peyton’s and who was at the hospital, assaulted, and had Peyton’s jacket and all of that be a goddamn coincidence.

No way. 

“Okay,” Peyton said slowly, carefully, trying to ignore the uneasiness that swept across her pale skin. “That sounds creepy and weird...but what does that have to do with Derek?”

Lucas damn near growled in frustration. 

“The other night at Tric, when he hugged you goodnight,” Lucas explained and as the words tumbled from his mouth, he couldn’t help but wince, uncomfortable at the memory that flitted across his mind. 

He might have eventually become distracted with Brooke and alcohol, but he had remembered that - remembered hating when eventually Brooke stormed out, unable to actually suck down the margarita she’d paraded around Tric but also when he caught Derek with his arms around Peyton. The look on the blonde’s “brother’s” face, the way he buried his nose into her hair like Luke had done Brooke, like Nathan had done Haley - it had disturbed him.. “He kinda…” He glanced back at Peyton’s face, at her genuine curiosity and he felt stupid - this entire situation felt stupid and unsettling - but he gestured to her hair anyway as he finished, “...he sniffed your hair.”

Lucas really didn’t mean to smile at Peyton’s surprising guffaw. 

“Luke, c’mon!”

“Look, your jacket goes missing - ”

“Stop - ”

“ - and it’s off on some hooker in the hospital wearing some blonde wig who’s dressed like you?”

“Whoa whoa whoa - wait, how do you know she was a hooker?” Peyton’s total disregard of what Lucas saw as evidence gave him pause, and he had the distinct, boyish impression that he said something wrong but did not really know what exactly it was that was wrong. Lucas blinked at Peyton’s expectant gaze.

“Uh - I don’t know...she looked like a hooker,” he simply said and she snorted in response, making a small smile lift the corners of his mouth without consent. 

“Thanks,” Peyton retorted smartly, rolling her eyes at him. 

It could be easy, he realized. It could be easy to just let what had happened blow over, to pick up where they left off what seems like months ago even though it was literally only days that have passed since the last time he’d walked this very path with Peyton Sawyer. It could be easy to just pretend that he wasn’t still upset, that she and Brooke clearly didn’t still need to hash things over - so fucking easy. However, Lucas realized, it wouldn’t fix anything. They’d just be brushing things under the rug until the next big gust of wind knocked the rug clean off the floor, scattering the pieces of all three of them until they were clamoring over and hurting one another to become whole again. And, as selfish as it might have sounded, he was still working and would be working too damn hard to make things right with Brooke to take the easy way out. 

“Listen, I’m not saying any of this to be a dick, alright? I still care about you, Peyton.” Once again, Peyton snorted and this time, Lucas glanced up at her face to catch the disbelief in her green gaze. “I do.”

“Lucas, you’ve looked at me like I was the Black Death itself for days now,” she told him and although Lucas rolled his own eyes at the exaggeration, he couldn’t exactly refute the statement either. “You have and everyone knows it, including you. And I get it - I do - you’re mad at me and this is all my fault - ”

“Are you serious right now?” Peyton stopped from what was going to be a tirade to see that Lucas had stopped walking and was affixing her with one of those piercing stares that always made a shiver run down her spine. Once before, Peyton might have thought it was a good thing, the intensity of his scrutiny a sure sign of how captivating Lucas had once thought her when it felt like Nathan hadn’t given a damn about her. At the moment, though, it felt invasive, like an attack. 

“Am I wrong? Isn’t the whole point of this you-and-Brooke-not-talking-to-me-thing being that I need to accept responsibility for my mistakes?” She pressed. “Well, I fucked up, Lucas. I fucked up bad and I know that, okay? I should have never told Brooke that I had feelings for you and I shouldn’t have let myself develop feelings for you in the first place. I should have just stuck with - ”

“Are you serious right now?” Lucas growled and Peyton clenched her jaw, hands clutching at her jacket so tightly that she could feel her nails trying to dig into the thick leather. “You’re acting like we’ve said everything was your fault - ”

“It sure as hell feels like it!”

“Then that’s  _ your _ guilt talking Peyton, and that’s not on me,” Lucas snapped back and Peyton flinched, eyes widened with a sudden flood of tears she hated herself before, but Lucas was already walking away. A few steps, however, and he was back to standing before her, anger in his jaw and disappointment a bright thing in his blue eyes. “I didn’t give you your jacket just so I could lecture to you about responsibility and hurt feelings, Peyton. I don’t trust Derek. I didn’t trust him when I met him and I don’t trust him now because regardless of where we stand, I still care about you, Peyton. You are one of my best friends, no matter how upset I am with you now. That....that hasn’t changed just yet.”

Peyton took a shuddering breath, blinking back the tears. And not seeing the swirl of guilt and pain in Lucas’ own eyes. 

“Which means, that yes, I’m gonna think that your supposed new brother is a creep who found a prostitute somewhere, dressed her in the jacket he stole from you, plopped a wig on her head that’s supposed to pass as your hair, and stabbed her in the exact same place in the leg where you got shot because something about him does not sit well with me.” 

Peyton stared at him for a long time after he had finished speaking, watching the rise and fall of Lucas’ shoulders as he huffed and breathed. 

“And I get that - I do. And I love you for that, Luke,” she told him softly and Lucas stared at her sad green eyes, wanting so much to wrap an arm around her skinny shoulders and make her laugh again. “And I - I don’t mean that in the I-know-I’m-not-supposed-to-feel-that-way way, but just - I love how much you care. I just...I really want this.” Peyton sighed, looking away for a moment. Lucas shifted uncomfortably in place, but - and maybe it was by some miracle that he did some, some stray prayer in her mind happening to reach God when it felt like He didn’t even exist. “I want this, Luke - having a family, having Derek - and he’s been nothing but good to me, okay? So, could you just please…?”

“Okay.” Lucas didn’t offer anything else and Peyton knew the conversation was about to be over, and the panic rose up in her chest before she could even attempt to think to quell it. It was like in the hallway with Brooke; a part of her had known she needed to walk away before saying something she would regret later, but that part also knew that it had been the longest interaction with Brooke she’d had in an eternity. And it was mean and it was selfish and she cried later - so much so that she couldn’t even fathom cheer practice. But Peyton Sawyer was masochistic, it seemed

“I’ll be careful, I promise,” she swore. “And I’ll tell someone as soon as absolutely anything seems - ”

“You call me,” Lucas said then. “No matter what, I’ll answer.” Peyton bit her lip, tears welling up in her eyes all over again and even though she didn’t think she had anything to worry about, the gratefulness still spilled over until she found herself swiping at her cheeks to keep from making too much of a mess of her mascara. 

“Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

 

It should have been clear that Brooke Davis was not pregnant when she scarfed down a margarita.

It should have been clear that Brooke Davis was not pregnant when she had not begun to show.

It should have been clear that Brooke Davis was not pregnant when literally last week, she had performed two back handsprings and a full split at an away game. 

There were a host of situations in which it should have been abundantly clear that Brooke Penelope Davis was not, in fact, pregnant and yet...and yet, Brooke was ready to commit murder. She was and she was going to be sent to jail and unable to get refocused with her fashion because she was going to be too focused on not getting killed in prison because she was too pretty for all that and Brooke really. 

Needed. 

To. 

Scream. 

It had been one thing for her to contend with classmates eyeing her and Lucas too closely, probably wondering if he was back with her because she was having a baby - and yes, she had heard the rumors that it probably wasn’t even his, which... _ ouch, and a fuck you to you too, Tree Hill! _ \- or if any of them could catch a glimpse of her grazing her belly absentmindedly, stroking a bump that both she and her boyfriend knew was not there. A bump that would not be there, if she could help it, for a very long time. She almost paused in her stride, a small smile flitting across her face.

Brooke knew herself well enough to know that she wasn’t entirely ready for a child just; she was literally prepared to be homeless before Rachel invited her to live with her. She and Lucas had just gotten back together, and honestly needed to just  _ be together _ \- not have it be them and a baby they weren't adult enough for. It wasn’t meant as an insult to Nathan and Haley, but Brooke knew herself and knew she’d be riddled with too much self-doubt and insecurities and honest-to-God worries to be the kind of parent she wanted to be for her future child. A better parent than either of the ones she had but never truly had. 

That also did not mean that she had not thought of - no, dreamed of - a future child or children with Lucas before. 

_ Not now _ , she chided herself mentally and continued her brisk pace. 

“Haley!” She cried as she threw her large bag on the table Haley was occupying before plopping herself down in the seat opposite of the blonde. However ready to whine to the smaller girl Brooke might have been, though, she was unable to unsee Haley swiping under her eye, catching a tear before it fully fell, and Brooke’s eyebrows scrunched up lightly in confusion. “Wait, what’s wrong?”

“I, uh…” Haley sighed. “I told Nathan that I’m pregnant and...ummm….he walked out.” Brooke’s eyes widened almost comically, her mouth falling open because...okay, she expected Nathan to not exactly jump for joy when the two of them were legitimately about to get college acceptances and have to work out their marriage after high school, but still. Just walking away had never been a part of Brooke’s vision and her hand immediately reached over to cover Haley, sympathy warring with...with something else at the revelation.

“I’m sorry, buddy.” Haley only placed her other hand over Brooke’s, gratitude in her smile.

Which was why Brooke was probably a terrible friend. She was and she knew that about herself in that moment because the something else was elation, as horrible as it sounded. It was absolute relief because clearly....Nathan knew his wife was pregnant. Which meant that everyone was going to know Haley was pregnant and that also meant that everyone should know that Brooke was not, which was so horrible. Absolutely, incorrigibly horrible and she’d owe Haley all of the mint chocolate chip ice cream in the absolute world but also - 

“Ummm....listen, now that Nathan knows, it wouldn’t be.... _ horrible _ , exactly, if the news of your pregnancy sort of, somehow slipped out, right?” She inquired because, once more for the kids in the back, Brooke was most notably a horrible, horrible friend. She was also a horrible, horrible friend who really liked  _ not _ being given ginger tea by the lunch lady because ginger helps with nausea and not having to deal with Coach Whitey legitimately telling her that he was here to talk because he had been there for Karen too, back in the day. 

Both of those things were nice and the people were sweet, but Brooke was Brooke and they were just overbearing and just plain too much for the girl who had  _ enough  _ on her plate to be dealing with everyone she knows thinking she’s something she’s not. She might do something and actually try to get pregnant just to shut them up, and Brooke had enough stupidity on her track record. Haley, God bless her, peered at Brooke as if lost for a moment at the direction Brooke took the conversation, before blinking twice, shaking her head after a beat.

“I-I-I mean...., well, I guess not,” she replied. 

“Okay,” Brooke chirped in response, slapping her hands down on the old courtyard table in glee. “Great.” She hoisted herself to her feet and ignoring Haley’s shock at her exuberance, the brunette also hoisted herself atop the table until she was standing straight and eyeing her peers. “Hey, people! Listen up!”

It seemed only then that Haley realized what Brooke was about to do for the former rockstar’s honey brown eyes went wide and Brooke swore Haley’s face was going to turn red, but she kept going because....well, she did ask for permission, didn’t she?

“I’m not the one who’s pregnant, okay,” she declared as their peers began to crowd the table. She then gestured to Haley, who shot her a dirty look, but Brooke only beamed. “Haley is!”

“Brooke!” Haley hissed, imminent death on the horizon at the sound of Brooke’s name. It was a worthy cause to die for, however, she’d ascertain before the petite mother-to-be delivered the finishing blow. 

“Haley’s got the roast on slow cook, not me! Thank you!” She hops down, cringing at the disbelieving glare in Haley’s eyes and the promise of her end that remained unspoken in the way the blonde set her jaw, Haley trying to smile amidst all the congratulations Brooke had not received - now that she thought about it - when she was the one they thought pregnant. Actually, now that Brooke was paying attention, Haley was trying....not to smile, a feat made impossible when their eyes met again for once that happened, they laughed. 

It was silly and ridiculous and Haley was probably still going to hit her when she got over the absurdity of Brooke’s eager exclamation and everyone else’s well wishes. But despite their peers and neighbors looking at them like they were crazy, Brooke couldn’t find it in her to reign in the giggling fit Haley’s own giggles had her in, and the two friends clutched each other, barely able to breathe amidst their laughter until...until..

...until a sob shot through the space between them and it took a second for Brooke to realize that it was Haley. Haley was no longer smiling, her eyes were no longer bright with amusement and joy, but bright and shiny with tears. The other girl’s tiny shoulders shook and the tears rained down her face, big and fat, and dropping down to her pointed chin. “Alright, all of you can go away now,” Brooke yelled and other teenagers hesitated in leaving, all glancing about at one another and the two girls who clearly have lost their minds. Brooke glared at a small cluster and growled, “I said,  _ move _ !” That did it. 

Soon, it was just them again at their table and Haley’s face buried into Brooke’s chest and Brooke could care less about how the girl’s tears were soaking through her very light tan shirt - okay, so sue her she did care, but she also knew that Haley was more important and honestly, it wouldn’t be her if she wasn’t even a little concerned about having a giant went stain on her top,  _ so fuck you very much _ \- because Haley was crying. Like, legitimately crying and Brooke could do nothing more than hold her friend through it, rock her back and forth it and rub up and down her back soothingly, occasionally pausing to swipe a kiss across Haley’s forehead like the time Haley had done the same to her because Brooke had really needed her and it had either been that, or tell Lucas much earlier about Peyton. And that was an act for a Brooke she hadn’t been brave enough to be. 

But this wasn’t about Brooke anymore. This was about Haley - Haley who smelled like cinnamon sweetness and warmth, like comfort wrapped in saccharine wisdom and perseverance. This was the girl who learned to deal with a fickle roommate who ate up all her ice cream only to whine to Haley later about all of the calories, who offered Brooke her arms to cry in when she honestly didn’t need to put in the effort. And she needed Brooke, yes, but she needed all the comfort she usually gave everyone else.

Which was why Brooke led her to the one place she knew the girl could get it.

“Brooke,” Karen exclaimed, a warm glint in her eyes that made Brooke bite her lip, her stomach a churning mess of guilt as it hit her how long since the last time she’d spoken with Karen. 

In hindsight, she should have been come to see Karen, even if she had just broken up with Lucas. A part of her knew that had she done so, she more than likely would have made up with him long before they actually did and her own stubbornness would not allow such simplicity. Simplicity was for another girl, not Brooke Davis, she surmised sardonically. 

“I was wondering when you’d make some time for me,” Karen said and Brooke dug her teeth into her lower lip harder, a thousand apologies on her mind but Haley’s sniffling at the forefront. It seemed like Karen understood that as well because her smile seemed to soften even more for the petite blonde. “Welcome to my history, Haley James Scott.” Haley was immediately enfolded in Karen’s arms and although Brooke longed to just leave them both to it, her feet led her inside and she was closing the door behind them all. 

“I’ll, uh, getting the water boiling for tea.” Karen spared a soft nod over her shoulder and Brooke, watching Haley bury her face, sighed and hurried to the kitchen to find the kettle. 

 

* * *

 

 

“Peyt!”

Leave it to Peyton’s mind, she found room to joke bitterly, to conjure up her former best friend’s voice at a time when she really needed the security of every moment she’s ever had with Brooke Davis. 

“Peyt!”

Derek - or not-Derek, Peyton honestly didn’t know what or whom to call the man other than a lying piece of shit, had her pinned to her door frame, hand bruising at her jaw and her neck, hot breath blowing on her face, lips brushing against her open-mouthed horror at the reality that Lucas had been tased into near unconsciousness. She whimpered as his grip on her throat seemed to tighten. However, just before she could begin to gag, his weight disappeared and Peyton’s eyes swung open at smaller hands wrapping around her wrists.    


“H-huh?” Movement from the right side was accompanied with grunts of pain and Peyton looked there first, fearfully, as a brown-skinned male tackled Derek onto her bed, swinging down at the blonde man’s face. But then she whirled back to the hands that held her and whimpered again only to realize that the sound of wind in her ears was only a familiar hazel-eyed girl shushing her. 

“C-come on, Peyt,” Brooke urged her, pulling at her far more gently than Peyton thought the girl ever would again. But Peyton’s legs refused to move, she realized, and she felt the tears running down her face with renewed anguish. 

“Lucas,” Peyton whimpered and Brooke, gaze a fearful hazel, glanced into the room only to have her own eyes widen in shock. 

“Luke!” The girl shrieked and was running inside without thought, despite Peyton trying to grab at her again. Peyton’s heart damn near stopped when not-Derek slammed the brown-skinned guy’s head down onto the foot of her bed, his built body puddling onto the floor limply. She cried out Brooke’s name just as the brunette reached her boyfriend. Her heart stuttered when not-Derek - no longer distracted by one assailant - practically lunged at Brooke, hand in her dark hair and yanking her from her crouch until her feet were clear off the ground, despite all her kicking and wriggling and fighting. One of his muscled arms was around Brooke’s throat and Peyton felt all the blood rushing from her veins.

“Brooke!” Peyton’s cry of her friend’s name was nearly drowned out by Brooke’s own scream of terror and pain. “Please....please, let her go!” 

“But it’s all her fault,” not-Derek spat, yanking Brooke’s head back so hard that the brunette, trying to pry his fingers out of her hair, cried out again, clawing at him as best as she could and choking at her own ill efforts. “This bitch - ” He yanked at Brooke’s hair again and the sound that erupted from Brooke’s throat made Peyton sob, made her clutch at the door frame - the only thing holding her up - so tightly that her knuckles were white with the strain. “ - this bitch...she hurt you, Peyton. And I...I’ve been here. I’m the only one who - ”

Peyton didn’t want to hear any of it.

Somewhere between Brooke’s first cry and the second he called Brooke a bitch, Peyton had already ran outside of her bedroom to get the lamp in the hallway and was charging back into the room with it, and hurling it at his head. Brooke crumpled to the ground, gasping for breath Peyton prayed reached her lungs. She screamed again, shocked and horrified when Derek only seemed to shrug the heavy lighting instrument away as if it were nothing more than a feather, and Peyton began yanking at Brooke’s fingers and hands until she had the brunette in her arms. 

not-Derek took two, three, four menacing steps towards the duo and while Brooke scrambled to her feet, Peyton felt stuck in place, frozen in fear just as both Lucas and the brown male from before threw their bodies into the guy, knocking him clear off his feet and crashing through Peyton’s bedroom window. 

No one moved nor spoke for a few moments. It struck Peyton that it was the quietest her bedroom had been since earlier this morning, before Nathan shared that Haley was pregnant and Peyton found herself jumping in elation, before she realized the validity of Lucas’ fears, before....before….

One second she had been with Brooke, clutching at the brunette so tightly Peyton was sure she would have been hurting her had the girl not clung to her just as tightly, and the next she was peering over broken glass and scattered papers only to sob. not-Derek lay amidst glass shards and pieces of white wood, on top of magazine clippings she and Brooke rifled through for hours with nothing but ice cream and girlish delight, and Peyton really hoped he was dead. The thought made her feel cold, made the breath freeze in her lungs. It was such a bad thought - a horrible thought - and Peyton had never really wanted anyone dead, but she wanted not-Derek dead. She wanted him to never wake up again and she wanted him to stay there until the cops came, still and not breathing and not hurting anyone and Peyton was sobbing, sobbing, sobbing.  

Arms wrapped around her from behind - too tiny, she realized, to be Lucas’ despite him having been the closest to her  - and Peyton fell back into those arms. She hadn’t even realized that she had been falling in general until she was on her knees and then she was on her butt, hands once more clutching at Brooke’s arms as they tightened around her, her back against Brooke’s soft front, a curtain of sweet smelling darkness cascading over the side of her face. Peyton buried her face in it, feeling the trussed up tresses sliding softly against her cheek. 

“H-how…?” Words seemed to fail her and it took Peyton a long time to realize that it wasn’t that the world was vibrating - that she was shaking, and maybe Brooke was too. Brooke seemed to clear her throat, nuzzling the top of her head. 

“Luke - he didn’t think he’d make it before me,” Brooke replied, seemingly able to decipher what Peyton was trying to answer...which was - it was nice and it was comforting and safe. So so safe, and Peyton was still shaking, still felt like her heart was going to beat out of her chest and that her breathing was never going to slow again...but that rushing sound - Brooke shushing her again, so softly, so gently Peyton could almost feel herself relaxing a little - returned. Peyton’s breath stuttered past her lips as the unfamiliar man in the room shifted on his feet, honey gaze inscrutable as he turned to her.

“Wh-who’re you?” He stared at her for a long minute, his jaw clicking, a thousand questions in his countenance and war wracking his frame. 

“I guess I’m your brother,” he declared and Peyton’s mouth fell open in silent horror. not-Derek had found her brother. He had lied to her, deceived her. He’d been stalking her all this time and she had - she’d been stupid, she realized and sobbed into Brooke’s hair as it all crashed down on her. 

“Come on,” Lucas called, still peering down at the body that would move only when it was sure none of them would see. “I can hear the cops coming.” And true enough, it was only then that Peyton could hear the police sirens shrieking into the night.

So, why then did that not offer a lick of comfort? Why would it never?


	8. and I guess that's why they call it the blues pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brooke thinks she's good at pretending to be okay, but she's not. None of them are.

The first night had not been so bad.

Nobody had wanted to be alone. Peyton couldn’t look at her bedroom, though, so she and Brooke had grabbed childhood blankets stowed away in one of the hallway closets for guest use, and squeezed themselves on one of the couches because Peyton felt safer when she had Brooke. Even though Peyton’s long legs wound up twining with Brooke’s uncomfortably, and one of her feet dug into Brooke’s ribcage, and Peyton couldn’t really lay on the couch the way she would have wanted to. It was fine because Peyton felt safe - _Peyton was safe, Peyton was safe, Peyton was safe, safe, safe_ \- and Brooke was warm and _there_. If they happened to also feel safer with Lucas sleeping on the other couch, a kitchen knife in arms’ reach should so much as a gust of wind graze the house, nobody said anything.

Nobody really slept either.

The whole town knew and Brooke thought she had hated it when everyone thought she was pregnant, hated their watchful gazes and whispers. Now, she _really_ hated their watchful gazes and whispers, their blatant curiosity - their _concern_ . That was probably the part that irked her the most. Peyton was the one who had been attacked and stalked, whose privacy and safety had been violated, who was made vulnerable and preyed on. She needed to be the one everyone pretended to care about, not Brooke. Because Brooke was fine, absolutely fine and she was dressed in one of her best, hair purposefully curled with a pretty headband she hadn’t been able to ignore at the mall, and her makeup was flawless and she was _fine_. Just. Fine.

Brooke’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, hands fastened so surely on it that her nails reached her palm and they were digging in her own flesh.

She could not do it again. The first night had been a fluke. She had only stayed with Peyton out of concern for her, out of understanding that the girl’s home had once been safe and now it was not and that she couldn’t be there alone - because Peyton had _needed_ her. And Lucas was right. Brooke could tell herself the same thing a thousand times over, but the truth of the matter was that Brooke did not hate Peyton and could not hate her, despite wanting to. However, despite knowing that, Brooke could not stay at that house. She looked at it and her feet were no longer touching the ground and she was being dragged and not-Derek was bound to pull her hair from her scalp, and Brooke could not breathe.

Her heart thudded.

Brooke’s breath came in short huffs and her heart was too loud, and it was beating beating beating...and she _couldn’t_ breathe. Her hands clenched even harder on the steering wheel and she couldn’t do it again. She needed to turn. She needed to put the key back in the ignition and she needed to drive away, away, away....she couldn’t do it again. The edges of her vision went blurry and fear gripped her chest, made her stomach flip and flop this way and that, made the bile rise to the back of her throat and then her eyes were stinging. Blood pounded in her ears and it took Brooke longer than she thought it should have for her to realize that it wasn’t an earthquake making her hands tremble - no, her _body_ was shaking and she needed to breathe, breathe, breathe…

The engine came to life. Its sound made her breath hitch in her throat, made her flinch before she came to the startling realization that she had turned the key. She glanced at the house, at the boarded up window she had sat by so many times as a child munching on slices of pizza and giggling over boys, and she drove away. She was away, driving driving driving, and Peyton didn’t know that she was there. Peyton wouldn’t have to know that she was there because Brooke had never been there. She didn’t need another night of tangled limbs and flapping arms, or shared breaths and a crick in her neck. Because Brooke Davis was fine.

She just needed to not go to that house. Not unless Peyton needed her, of course.

It wasn’t until she got to the school yard that Brooke’s hands stopped shaking.

 

* * *

 

 

Peyton had not gone to school that first day.

Nobody had blamed her, least of all Lucas. Hell, Lucas probably would have decked someone if they even said anything remotely insulting about her lack of a presence. Then again, neither did Lucas show up for school that next day. Brooke had went, though. He had told her she didn’t have to and even Karen would have vouched for her, he knew. But despite both of their reassurances and honest to God pleas that Brooke just take the day off, she was sidling off to Rachel’s to change her clothes long before Peyton had rose - they had each drifted off far too late into the night to even be functioning humans, let alone students - with a kiss to Lucas’ lips and a soft look at Peyton’s sleeping form. Lucas didn’t trust her bravado.

It was easy to say that they could be better than they were before, that they needed to not shut each other out and communicate. Addressing the problem is the first step to making a change. But putting it into practice when they’re used to doing the very thing that broke them up in the first place - aside from the cheating, which was never happening again, ever - is a completely different story. But Lucas was going to try - he _did_ try, even if it resulted in Brooke damn near threatening him with death if he didn’t go see Peyton, which he was going to learn to not be afraid of one of these days - he really was.

Just _after_ he did what Brooke said and avoided that murderous green - and yes, her eyes went green, dark and so so _green_ , when angry.

The second night could have been better. Brooke swore she was fine once the morning light had come and she had eventually drifted into some light sleep at some point...but that was after she had whimpered into his chest, all stuttering breaths with her shut eyes, tears dripping past long dark lashes. He’d tried to gently coax her awake, tried not to wish not-Derek was around because there were a few things Lucas’ fists really wanted to say to the bastard’s face, but he had had his girlfriend in his arms and she needed him more. So, he had whispered that he was there and that no one was hurting her and he had honestly touched the top of her head to pet at her hair, to provide comfort.

That was probably a horrible move.

Lucas had realized that belatedly as Brooke had damn near leapt out of his bed with a shriek that made his heart medication feel useless because his heart ached so badly; she’d practically raced to the backdoor and pressed herself against it, sliding onto the floor and whimpering and stuttering out apologies and Lucas wanted to punch something. Lucas was slow to a true rage, but it was there - simmering under his skin, pounding so hard and so loudly in his veins and that he was surprised he’d managed to scramble to his knees so that he could be smaller for Brooke, so she could remember that it was him and that she was safe. He hadn’t been able to rest after that, even though he’d been grateful she had.

“I’m fine, Luke,” Brooke had said, and she had taken a long deep breath, swinging her bag over her shoulder before fixing her scarf in the mirror. Brooke wore scarves now and Lucas knew why, knew that it made him want to scream and rage and give his heart a real reason to attempt to fail him. But she never addressed it and the first day, when he had seen her after school, hazel eyes met him defiantly, defensively - as if she dared Lucas to question her decision, to bring attention to a thing she very much did not want any attention to.

Brooke Davis did not want _any_ attention and that spoke more than she knew.

“No, you’re not,” he had replied, staring at her and watching her do everything but meet his gaze.

“Yes, I am, and you would know that if you were paying attention.” Brooke didn’t think he saw it but her hand trembled when she turned, but then it was grabbing a semi sheer sweater and Lucas sighed. “Peyton’s not answering Nathan or Haley’s calls and they’re worried. _She’s_ the one you need to be worried about. I can take care of myself.”

“But the truth of the matter is that I _am_ paying attention, Brooke, and you’re _not_ okay,” he told her and took two steps towards her. Her shoulders tensed and Brooke clutched at her sweater and bag, and it made Lucas stop. His eyes narrowed and she swallowed hard, eyes falling closed for a moment before opening again. Dread dropped like lead in his stomach. “Brooke…”

“It’s not you.” She declared, but it wasn’t enough. It didn’t not make the backs of his eyes sting in shock and hurt, didn’t not make his hands clench in anger and despair.

“I can’t even come near you without you being the one to initiate it.”

“That’s not true,” Brooke swore and Lucas snorted bitterly. “It’s not, Lucas.” Lucas eyed her warily and several heartbeats passed between them, seconds ticking by, before he took two more steps. She did not flinch this time and her breath was even. Her eyes, however, watched his every movement and Lucas cursed not-Derek. He had never cursed his own blonde hair and blue eyes, but he cursed them and he cursed not-Derek for making him curse them because the son-of-a-bitch ruined everything.

When Lucas reached Brooke, they were toe to toe and she was looking up at him with eyes he was sure she’d deny were watery. He made sure she could see his hand when he reached for her, let his knuckles graze the soft skin of a soft high cheekbone, let his thumb swipe away a stray tear he’d let her pretend wasn’t there. She released a shuddering breath and her eyes fell closed, eyelashes brushing against the thumb still under her eye and she leaned into his touch. Lucas dare not move another body part.

“Brooke…” He spoke softly, tenderly. She was like a small animal in the woods; he couldn’t move too swiftly lest it frighten her, couldn’t make too loud of a noise - make her feel too loud of a thing - without making her run. “... _pretty girl_...it’s okay to not be okay.” That clearly was the wrong move.

Brooke sucked in a sharp breath and was out of his space before Lucas could so much as utter another soft-spoken reassurance, and he clutched at the air she’d just occupied. “Which is exactly what you need to tell Peyton because knowing her, she’s locked herself in that room and she’s not okay.”

“Brooke - ”

“But I’m fine, Lucas, so just go,” she told him and Lucas found himself grinding his teeth together, jaw tense and he wanted to snatch her up in his arms and lock them away in his bedroom for the rest of the school year.

“No, you’re n - ”

“Just go!” Brooke snapped and Lucas froze.

They both did, she at having lashed out at him - she clearly had not meant to - and he - not just because of the demand in her eyes that bespoke her wrath should he not do as she asked - but because...because there was a shrill sound that had come from the back of her throat at her shout and it reminded him of that night, of the way he had crawled to his hands and knees once the breath had returned to his lungs. He was never going to forget the way Brooke sounded when not-Derek had grabbed her, this shrill painful sound that Lucas heard in the shower, when he was on a run, when she was finally asleep in his arms, finally limp and sleep-soft and safe. She was scared, so so so scared, and Lucas wanted to kill not-Derek.

“I’m okay,” she had assured him and hurried out the door, a smile that could only be painted on her face and Lucas knew for a fact - knew it in his soul - that Brooke was not okay.

Peyton wasn’t either.

The brand new white of her bedroom had been jarring when he had seen it. The throwing the key out the window and the assortment of locks on her bedroom door were also jarring, but not seeing the red and black nor her bookshelf - or much of anything resembling Peyton Sawyer’s bedroom - was startling. It was worse when, after finally convincing her to come to school, she emerged from the house with a black hood pulled over a black hat, hands shoved in her pocket and her eyes - so much like Brooke’s - daring him to say one word.

Lucas didn’t say anything, not until they were in the school hallway.

“Are we expecting an outbreak of stalkerazzis and photographers, or are you just ashamed to be seen with me?” Lucas inquired, trying to break the tension in the air, trying not to let the fire in his veins and in his chest out on inconsiderate teenagers who would not stop looking at them.

“No,” Peyton replied after a beat and eyed a male student as he eyed her, the asshole’s eyes watching her mouth as if he could catch some hint of her distress so that he could share it with another asshole and spread it to the rest of the drama-hungry student population. “I guess bad news travels fast.” Lucas grimaced and frowned at a pair of girls.

“You’re going to be okay.” He offered the reassurance with a hand on Peyton’s back and she seemed to shudder under his touch, shutting her eyes to avoid another classmate’s watchful gaze.

“Everytime I close my eyes, I see him there - watching me - and now I’ve gotta come to school and see all of them watching me?” There was a tremor in her voice as they made it to her locker and Lucas leaned against the one beside hers, sighing.

“Did you try calling your dad?”

“No,” she replied, incredulous. Peyton must have seen the surprise on his face because she added, softening her voice, “Look, I know that he would come home the minute I called, but what’s the point, okay? It’s over.”

It didn’t feel over, Lucas wanted to say. Not when his girlfriend couldn’t stand his touch unless she was too tired to remember that she was supposed to flinch or he was too pliable to be seen as anything but harmless. It wasn’t over when Peyton clearly had not slept - there was darkness under her eyes and she was paler than normal, and Lucas wasn’t much of a betting man but he’d bet every penny in his pocket that she wasn’t eating much either - and both girls were still afraid.

“And there’s probably, like, a hundred police officers out there looking for Psycho Derek...so...what’s my Dad gonna do?” Peyton continued, unaware of Lucas’ inner turmoil, at his...helplessness. He had not been able to do much of anything that night. Psycho Derek - and wasn’t that a term? - had overpowered him. Lucas had been thrown off the guy and tased, still had the sensitive mark to prove his failure on his side. He had been unable to do anything, couldn’t fight the guy without help, couldn’t -

“Protect you?”

“I can take care of myself,” Peyton deadpanned and Lucas winced, taking a deep breath and looking away from the sharp green eyes as if the brunette could be conjured up just by the blonde having uttered that phrase.

“Trust me, I know that,” Lucas told her, eyes trained on glassy green and still remembering vibrant hazel, still remembering the trembling state of a square jaw and a teardrop on fair skin. “You both can.” Something clouded over Peyton’s gaze. Lucas watched her swallow.

“H-how is she?” Lucas took another breath and blew it out with puffed cheeks, heart clenching at how he had let Brooke walk out the door. He really needed to stop letting that happen.

“Being Brooke...being you…” He told her, the corner of his mouth quirking upward as he added, playful almost, “... being stubborn as all hell.” Peyton huffed out a small laugh and Lucas thought it a win - a small win, but a win, nonetheless. “Listen, I know that you can take of yourself - that you _both_ can - but it’s okay to be a little afraid from time to time.” Peyton snorted gracelessly.

“Really?” She asked, disbelieving. “What are you afraid of?”

 _Being useless_ , he thought but the words were never going to leave his mouth. _Weak._ _Not doing anything when the people I love need me. When my girlfriend is screaming at the top of her lungs and one of my best friends is scared out of her mind and Keith is dead and I  -_

But the words were not going to leave his mouth.

“This morning I asked Whitey if I could play again,” was what he said instead and the words tasted acrid and pathetic. Lucas bitterly blinked back his frustration. Peyton smiled.

“That’s great, Luke.”

“Yeah,” the light laugh felt false, felt wrong - so wrong wrong wrong - but Lucas kept going because Peyton didn’t need him weak. Brooke didn’t need him weak. They needed him tall and sure, unaffected and fearless. Not weak. “But with my heart condition...it doesn’t stop it from being a little bit scary.” Peyton mulled over his words, frowning.

“Then why are you playing?”

“Because it’s who I am.” It was the only thing that didn’t feel _wrong wrong wrong_ , didn’t make Lucas wonder if false bravado was the thing that made him and Brooke compatible. “And you,” he yanked the hat off of Peyton’s head, smirked at her pout, “need to be who you are.”

Leave it to a trio of nosy ass juniors to make it all for nothing.

Peyton had snatched the hat back, dismissed him, and Lucas grimaced and hated every student at Tree Hill that didn’t know what being considerate meant - and hated hated hated Psycho Derek with a ferocity he had never known.

“Peyton, wait!” He called and she took her time to face him again, already half down the hall and Lucas sighed deeply. He was back in his bedroom, back staring at Brooke’s determined face and blatant denial. “If you let this change you, then he wins.” He wished Brooke could hear him.

“So, he wins,” Peyton declared and Lucas swore the girls’ voices twined, both their voices sounding out their surrender, and his failure.

He also swore when he kicked the locker.

 

* * *

 

 

Brooke had a bruise from ear to ear along her throat.

It was a deep purple, marring perfect porcelain skin, and Haley watched it and the girl it belonged to when they were in the bathroom, watched how Brooke took out her concealer and dabbed over it with ivory powder. It was still sensitive. Haley could see that from the way her friend winced the first time before gingerly grazing her skin, her throat so pale beneath the bathroom lights.

Lucas was on his way; the boys were supposed to be doing drills, warming themselves up for the game Haley was still anxious about Lucas playing - Brooke was too, but she had prattled on about stubborn boyfriends that were so hot when they were being stubborn and all the other cheerleaders tittered but Haley was not convinced, could not unsee Brooke’s pause amidst their giggling. But fifteen minutes were what Whitey was giving him and Haley appreciated it, even if she’d spend the entire fifteen minutes clutching her pom poms like her life depended on it and exchanging worried smiles with Brooke, who would just beam a dimpled beam and scream for her man.

Lucas was coming and Brooke did not know because Haley had not told her because Brooke was mad at Rachel and Brooke was tapping her foot on the tiled floor. Rachel had apparently used Brooke’s name on a dating website - _tap tap tap tap_  - and had slept with the man - _tap tap tap tap_ \- and he just so happened to be one of their new teachers - and Brooke was livid. She’d snapped at Rachel and Rachel had cowed, but Haley had also seen something - a flicker of more in the daggers of Brooke’s bright hazel, the shakiness of her chest - and she had told Bevin to take the other girls out of the bathroom and to tell Lucas to bring himself as quickly as he could.

“Tigger…”

“I’m fine,” Brooke snapped and Haley watched her wince in the mirror, setting down her applicator and the cosmetic itself before softening. “I’m fine...just...just - after I strangle Rachel in her sleep - ”

“You’re not strangling anyone in their sleep.” Haley said softly and Brooke rolled her eyes, stamping her feet petulantly.

“Fiiiiine,” she whined and a brief smile crossed Haley’s face even as she worried a honey blonde curl between her thumb and forefinger. Brooke used her hands to rub in the concealer better and Haley could see that she was being a touch too rough because the discomfort shone in her eyes, but Lucas was not the only stubborn person in their relationship, Haley surmised.

“Brooke…”

“I’m fine.” Was her curt response. Haley watched Brooke glimpse her concern and the other girl clutched the counter. “I am. Peyton - ”

“ - is not the only one everyone’s worried about,” Haley told her, voice low and tender, so so comforting and Brooke loved her with every fiber of her being - she would move mountains and fuck up every single uppity adult in their small town with their small town judgements, combat any one person who had the audacity to look at Haley wrong for being eighteen and pregnant when she was the kindest, bestest, most amazing soul -

\- and why was her chest tightening?

“And I love you all for that, Haley, I do but I’m fine, okay?” Brooke grew weary of having to reiterate that. And of everyone trying to make her out a liar. “I am. If you guys want to be worried about someone, P. Sawyer could really use some of that - ”

“So could you.”

“Why?” Brooke’s voice rang out clearly, sharply, in the empty bathroom. Haley did not flinch, but Brooke seemed just as startled by her own conviction as she was incensed. “I am _fine_ , okay? I’m fine and I’m _here_. I’m here and...and I’m not just gonna curl up in a ball somewhere, Tutor Girl, if that’s what you’re all thinking. He didn’t hurt me. I am here and Peyton’s not and you should all just go be with her because sh-she’s...she’s not...and I….and...a-and - ”

\- and Brooke could not breathe.

Haley’s hands rose to placate her, shoulder length apart as she approached the girl and why was Haley getting taller - or was that Brooke getting lower? All Brooke knew was that one minute she was on her feet and the next, Haley was no longer visible, made blurry and unrecognizable and her lungs weren’t getting enough oxygen - why could she not breathe? - and Peyton was not here. Brooke didn’t need to go to that house, but Peyton was there and Peyton was supposed to be safe safe safe but how could she when everyone was so worried about Brooke and -

Her name sounded warped coming from Lucas’ mouth. Brooke tilted her head - she thought she tilted her head, she honestly couldn’t make out anything past the tears she never saw coming - and watched his mouth, wondered why she couldn’t recognize him but she knew it was him. And he was there - her heart beat hard, fast against her ribcage - but Peyton wasn’t - Peyton wasn’t safe safe safe - and...and…

_"But it's all her fault," not-Derek spat, yanking Brooke's head back so hard that the brunette, trying to pry his fingers out of her hair, cried out again, clawing at him as best as she could and choking at her own ill efforts. "This bitch - " He yanked at Brooke's hair again and pain behind her eyelids, and Brooke cried and felt the tears splatter onto her cheeks but wasn’t sure if she was crying because she couldn’t breathe breathe breathe " - this bitch...she hurt you, Peyton.”_

It was her fault.

Haley had asked her when she was going to let the bitterness end with Peyton so that they could be there for each other and Brooke had blamed Peyton when it was her - _her_ that Peyton needed and Brooke didn’t need anyone, but everyone was there for her. They were there for Brooke, but Peyton had no one - how could she be safe safe safe, legs wrapped up in Brooke’s and uncomfortable but there and warm and so so safe, if no one was there with her? - and that was Brooke’s fault. Brooke left her alone. It was her fault - all her fault because she was weak and she couldn’t go back to that house - and the back of her head _ached_ and her throat felt constricted and...and…

...why was Lucas apologizing?

Sound came back to her slowly, surely, and her vision didn’t swim anymore and Haley wasn’t there. It was just Lucas - Lucas who cradled her head against his chest and she breathed in the light sweat he’d accumulated from the earlier exertion, the clean soap and detergent that Karen supplied in the house, breathed in him - and Brooke sighed wetly into the dip of his collarbone, falling limp in his arms...and he was still apologizing.

“...I’m here…’m sorry…’s my fault…” He murmured against her hair and Brooke blinked slowly, feeling spent, drained. The bathroom door opened; Rachel and Whitey lingered outside, concern marring their faces while Haley entered with a water bottle. It looked cold and Brooke’s mouth was...it was dry and hot and cold water sounded so good. But Lucas was still cradling her like she was something precious and uttering apologies and Brooke pulled back enough to stare up at sad blue - true blue, all ocean blue and pure and deep and so so sad.

“...why? What’re you sad for, boyfriend?” She inquired, voice rough, weak.

“You’re not okay,” he told her and Brooke was going to tell him how wrong he was, she really was, but she found that she had no strength in her for that. “You’re not - don’t... _don’t look at me like that_ \- you’re not okay and I couldn’t do anything.” The space between her eyebrows dipped in confusion and Brooke clutched at his jersey, trying to move onto her knees but Lucas would not budge.

“Wait - what?”

“Lucas…”

Both Haley and Brooke seemed to speak at the same time, but Lucas focused only on Brooke and he looked so defeated, so sad and Brooke hated that look. That look didn’t belong on his face. He was supposed to be beaming and playing basketball and sweaty, ecstatic and wrung out and needing so very badly to sit the hell down before Brooke’s heart exploded out of her chest. Surprisingly, her heart wasn’t playing the rumba against her ribcage anymore. It wasn’t fully calm either.

“You screamed, Brooke. You screamed and you were crying and I couldn’t even get up,” Lucas exclaimed. Brooke’s frown deepened and she was pretty sure that was a teary breath Haley took, but all Brooke could see was Lucas. All blonde hair and deep ocean eyes - all Lucas - and it broke her heart. “Peyton was so scared and I could see your feet off the floor and I-I-I couldn’t...I couldn’t - I _didn’t_ \- do anything and...and…”

“Oh, boyfriend…”

“...and y-you’re _not_ okay.”

“You’re not either,” she whispered and Lucas shuddered, eyes falling shut and his forehead pressing down on hers. They sat there, sharing breaths, for what felt like a lifetime and Brooke heard the bathroom door open and close, but dared not move. A lifetime later, and Haley spoke up again.

“Whitey said you don’t have to do this.” Brooke’s eyes flung open. “You don’t have to play and Karen can come and - ”

“No.” The word rang out in the space between the lovers and Lucas’ eyes finally opened, pleading.

“Tell me not to play,” he begged her and if Brooke could, she’d bottle up all of the love she had in her chest - in her soul - and she’d let him drink from it every day if it could get the desperation out of his eyes, if it could relinquish him from whatever hold guilt had on him. That unnecessary and unfounded and honestly insulting piece of shit called guilt that she’d personally claw out of existence if it took a physical form. “Tell me you want to leave and I’ll pack up and we can go home and we - ” Brooke shook her head.

“I can’t let you do that.”

“Why not?” Brooke took a few steadying breaths, grateful that her lungs still worked, that the bathroom - oh god, who let her bare legs touch the floor? - was clear and fully visible, that the cold that had sunk into her core was dissipating.

“He wins,” she told him and Lucas sighed. “If you don’t play and we go home and I don’t do this, then he wins and I-I can’t...I can’t let him do that to me. To _us_ . I won’t.” Lucas blinked once, twice, and took another deep breath. Brooke reached up to run a hand over his hair, pushing it back from his eye. “You’re supposed to play - I want to see you play and I want to see you do the thing that you love...and I-I want - need - to do this because I did not spend ten years of my life tumbling and breaking a leg and cheering and _living_ just to let some creepy stalker creep make me not okay - ”

“It’s okay to not be okay, Tigger - ”

“ - I know that,” Brooke snapped. She turned hard green eyes to Haley, square jaw set and clumped lashes still wet with anxious tears. Lucas wondered if he’d ever see anything more beautiful. Her eyes softened as she added, gaze returning to his, “but I wanna be okay and I won’t if I’m stuck in the house wondering if he’s going to come back.” Her hand trailed from Lucas’ hair to the side of his face and Brooke stared into his eyes. She stared and she watched, wondering if she’d see him truly want to go home and leave the game that he loved behind, loving him when she didn’t, when she saw the same fire in him that was burning in her veins. “We’re not okay and I know that and I know that it’s not okay. But I wanna be right now...okay?”

Lucas swept her mouth up into a deep kiss, all bruising force and apologies and thank you’s that hurt, but it hurt so good - hurt so good and so long until she almost tasted copper - and she kissed him back just as hard. Brooke whimpered when Lucas pulled back, only parting their lips, still close - so close and so here and _hers_ \- and pressed his forehead against hers, gaze never leaving her own.

“Okay.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey…”

“Hi.”

Brooke stared at Peyton staring at her and the room fell silent. Brooke had started at the sound of the back door lock being turned, tensed under Lucas’ Ravens sweatshirt and remembered that she could be fast - his bedroom door was not far and all she had to do was leap - but it opened and...and...and Peyton looked worse for wear.

Peyton shut the door behind her slowly. Brooke learned to pry her fingers from the pillow they’d dug themselves in, willing her body to relax. Her heart still raced. Neither spoke a word for a moment. All they could hear was the sound of their individual breaths and Brooke wanted to scream about how unfair that was that it comforted her, that just the sound of Peyton breathing - _Peyton was safe, Peyton was safe, Peyton was safe safe safe_ \- made the rest of her muscles slink back into relaxation.

“I tried,” Peyton admitted and held up the familiar set of keys. Her voice trembled. “I-I didn’t...I wanted to - Lucas gave me a key - ”

“I know.” Brooke said it softly and she hoped Peyton didn’t hear an accusation in her tone because the blonde flinched like she did, and there was none. “I told him to.” Peyton’s green eyes were shiny under the moonlight and she looked pale dressed in black.

“Why?”

Brooke didn’t answer that.

“Did you talk to your brother?” She asked instead. Peyton huffed - Brooke couldn’t tell if it was a laugh or her trying to smile bitterly - but she felt the contempt.

“Yeah,” Peyton said lowly and made her way over to the bed, sinking into a perch. Brooke didn’t see how she could be comfortable like that, on the corner of the bed where the edge dug into her lower back and she was not fully on the mattress. In another life - in a life not too distant from the one they were in - Brooke would have joked that Peyton was enough bone for that to probably hurt and Peyton would have tried to smother her with the pillow. “He wouldn’t call me back.”

“What a dick.”

Brooke wished they both didn’t sound so pathetic when they laughed.

Peyton’s breath hitched in her throat, but she did not pull away when Brooke reached out to her, when she wrapped a hand around her wrist - and Peyton did not need to pull away because she was here and Brooke was too and they were so so _safe_ \- and tugged. The blonde came willingly and before she knew it, Peyton was on her side facing Brooke and they were staring at each other in silence again.

“I’m sorry.” It took Brooke a few breaths too long to realize that she had spoken the words, not Peyton. But spoke them she did and then she kept on speaking, wondering why she was doing it in the first place. “I wanted...I was going to come back - ”

“...I saw your car,” Peyton told her, eyes still so wet and they were leaking onto the pillow beneath her head. “You were across the street. I thought you’d come, but you didn’t - ”

“ - I couldn’t...I couldn’t go back in there…”

“...and I know I don’t deserve it - ”

“ - you don’t,” Brooke said. _She was such a bitch_ , she thought. She had not needed to say that. This wasn’t about before. This was about Peyton and about what Psycho Derek did and they weren’t okay - none of them were okay, not even her brother - and Brooke wasn’t being fair. She wasn’t even mad at the other girl at the moment. Peyton’s breath stuttered out of her chest.

“...I still needed you.” Brooke wondered what it said about her - about them - that she could find pleasure in Peyton _needing_ her, but she couldn’t find it in herself to feel guilty. Peyton needed her, _not_ Lucas - not Brooke’s boyfriend. Peyton needed _her,_ needed Brooke - needed Brooke to feel safe safe safe and -

“I know,” Brooke said softly, voice small like a child’s. She could see her child hand reach out to Peyton - or was that her teenage hand? - and Peyton did the same, and they weren’t fixed - not at all, but they were here and _so so safe_ \- and then they were holding hands and Brooke remembered a really bad story that Nathan had told them during a summer camp and they had laid down together, facing one another, holding hands and swearing that nothing would happen as long as they were together. “I guess I kinda needed you too.”

Lucas found them like that, fifteen minutes later, sleeping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm super proud I was able to get this out. Gonna be late for my second job, but fuck it!! No writer's block fucking with this chick lol


End file.
